Subtle Unraveling
by StormyInk
Summary: From animosity to grudging respect to a reluctant, ripening attraction, slowly but surely, humanity's strongest soldiers begin to unravel at their seams. Rivamika.
1. Understanding Subtlety

_I own none of these characters_

* * *

It had been very subtle.

The way she crossed her arms and turned away whenever he spoke. The black glares he felt burning into his skull when she spotted him from a distance. The way she shifted her body protectively between himself and Eren or Armin. The way she left the table whenever he sat down.

Like she had this morning.

But he was anything if a keen observer. He'd noticed Mikasa's antagonism towards him since the first day.

Well, there was someone else who had the thoroughness he possessed, despite her deceivingly erratic behavior. "Don't think Ackerman likes you very much." Hanji observed astutely, her grin a little teasing as she sat across the table.

He drank his tea. "Does anyone?"

Hanji laughed a little, wiping the corner of her mouth of crumbs. "There's a difference, Levi. She looks at you the way you all look at titans. Hate-filled, enraged, a little blood lust." She shrugged as she swallowed another mouthful of her food. "Or, well, sometimes."

He took another sip of tea and looked out the window disinterestedly. "Sometimes?"

Hanji nodded, enthused by his slight encouragement. "Sometimes she looks at you as if she doesn't understand. Which, she obviously doesn't—I mean, who does really get you?—but she is _like_ you. Sometimes I think that her dislike of you stems from that." She chewed thoughtfully. "You're both a bit aloof and protective. Intense and a bit intimidating. Ruthless fighters. You wrap up your emotions and hide them. She sees herself in you and it unsettles her the way people who don't like their looks hate looking in the mirror."

Levi thought for a moment. Were they really similar? He looked out the window to see Mikasa petting her horse stiffly. The horse shifted away and Mikasa scowled a little.

"You aren't intimidated by me."

She grinned at him. "That's because I know you're a softy."

Levi finished his tea and stood.

"Don't you want to hear the rest of what I have to say?"

Levi gave her head a sympathetic pat as he left the room.

* * *

"You aren't very comfortable around the horses."

Mikasa stiffened at the sound of _his _voice. So he'd noticed her uneasiness with the horses, she thought in irritation. She could ride and ride well, but she was always a bit nervous of the large beasts, afraid of a sudden kick or bite. They seemed to sense that about her, backing away when she reached for them.

Eren and Armin could hug them without qualm.

Levi leaned against the trunk of the tree and observed her for a few moments before he spoke again. "You aren't very comfortable around me, either."

She inhaled deeply. "No, I'm not."

"Are you petty enough to still be angry over that?" He lifted a brow at her superciliously. "Even the brat's forgiven me."

She lifted her head and looked at him head on. "You did what you had to to save him, and a part of me is grateful." She scanned his impassive features, the hardness of his jaw, his straight nose and narrow eyes. "You've even saved me. But it doesn't change the fact that I had to watch you beat Eren while he was helplessly chained." _It was one of the worst moments of my life and…and I've had plenty. _

He sighed drearily. "You really are like me."

She frowned and before she could ask he bent and grabbed a small sack, reaching into it. He walked over to her and grabbed her wrist, ignoring the way she stepped away. He turned her palm up and unclenched his other fist, pouring a handful of oats into her hand.

Startled, she held still.

The horse inhaled sharply and stepped forward, nuzzling their hands. Levi's pale long fingers remained firm around her wrist, holding it steady as the horse began to eat the oats off her palm. Mikasa watched the horse with a bit of trepidation, her pulse thrumming.

But it was gentle as it ate and after a few silent moments she relaxed and reached up with her other hand, stroking his mane soothingly.

"They feed off your energy. If you are calm and comfortable around them they'll be so around you. In order for you to establish a comfortable and calm aura with them you need to touch them more often, spend more time around them." The horse finished the oats and backed away, swishing its tail happily. "Try to make an effort to not see them as simple beasts. They'll be grateful for you effort. You'll work together much better if you attempt to understand each other a little more."

Still, he didn't release her hand.

She hadn't really realized how close they were standing.

She saw his gaze latch briefly onto her mouth.

"Thank you." Her voice felt a little raspy.

His grip tightened briefly but he nodded curtly.

She pulled away and he released her hand. He grimaced at the saliva coating his fingers. "This is disgusting."

She smirked a little, walking towards the retreating horse a little more confidently.

"Take it back before it shits everywhere, Ackerman."

Her smirk deepened as she tugged up her scarf. "Yes, Heichou."

* * *

As Levi scrubbed his hand, he let his mind wander.

Mikasa had her charm, he supposed. Her skin had felt soft, the slight impression of his fingers blushed red on her pale wrist. He recalled thinking he'd never seen eyes so large and dark, curiously mystifying.

He'd never really noticed her mouth much before either.

He sighed and dried his hands.

He hadn't thought he'd have such a strong impulse to pull her nearer.

But he'd seen her reaction to him. He'd felt her pulse quicken beneath his fingers, saw the way her soft pink lips parted as she inhaled. He saw the way she'd _looked _at him, heat wrapped in confusion.

Yes, her reaction had been subtle.

But he was most definitely a keen observer.

* * *

**A/N-I actually really wanted to make this multichapter, but since this is my first time writing Rivamika I kind of restrained myself. **

**My fingertips keep tapping them up despite these self-imposed restraints. **

**I'll do a multichapter Rivamika eventually or I'll just extend this one. **

**I think.**


	2. Untangling Spider Webs

He'd been having a very long, tiresome day.

He felt grimy and sweaty, the weather a bit warmer than usual for this time of year. His cloak hung about his shoulders raggedly, shredded from when he'd sliced it free of a titan's grubby grip, his left arm feeling achy and rattled from the hard stroke of his blade. His side felt more than a little bruised and to top it all off he hadn't slept very well last night.

It'd been a mixture of things that had wracked his skull and kept him stirring. Nightmares, mostly; the gruesome sound of bodies being crushed and chewed, the bloody smears they were reduced to after they'd been clenched between titan fingers, their screams of pure terror and agony as they were eaten alive.

And yet as he'd tried to distract himself from these images there had been a sudden shift from the soup of skin, blood and bones to just pale, clean skin. The softness of it still clinging to his fingertips. The cries and screams had been replaced by the quiet, thrilling sound of her sharp intake of breath. The small curve of her parted pink lips making his pulse quicken for a much different reason.

And as he dangerously wondered what it might have felt like to have her lips part for him in his bed the pale sunlight had begun to bleed into the inky blue of the sky, and he'd felt the exhaustion grind on his bones.

He rubbed his hand over his face tiredly as he walked back to his quarters, breaking himself away from his irritating thoughts as the sun beat down on the nape of his neck.

And then he heard it.

Cackles and chokes of annoying, hyena-like laughter. The snaps and cracks of 3D maneuver gear and a few cries of dismay.

He was very tempted to ignore it. He could, really. He could take a hot shower and eat and perhaps be left alone long enough to catch up on his sleep. He could avoid all forms of human interaction and the thought seemed like bliss.

But then he heard a feminine voice call out.

"Mikasa, please—I can't get down!"

He debated only for a few more seconds before he moved.

Wearily, he began to walk around the corner towards the commotion.

He spotted Jean and Connie first, huddled together beneath a small cluster of tall trees. They were whispering quietly to one another, looking up at the branches with a sickening fascination, as if glitter was falling from them.

They continued to murmur. They hadn't noticed him standing behind them.

Yet.

"Look at where her hand is." Jean murmured to Connie in fascination.

Connie giggled a little dumbly. "Yeah, I see."

He looked up at the two women grimly.

Mikasa was balancing on a flimsy branch steadily, methodically undoing the buckles and straps on Sasha's legs. Sasha was gripping Mikasa's thighs, dangling upside down and looking a little frightened and woozy. She buried her face against Mikasa's hip and groaned.

Jean shifted forward. "Sasha is…very lucky."

Connie hummed.

"I'd do anything to be in Sasha's position right now."

He'd known of Jean's little infatuation on Mikasa—who didn't really—and it bothered him to no end that it was a similarity he also seemed to possess. He wasn't _infatuated _with the girl, but since they'd fed the horses she had never really strayed far from his thoughts. He kept recalling the feel and smell of her and his irritating, helpless reaction to it—and yet what had stunned him more than anything was that she had _responded _to him, also.

When was the last time someone had been so receptive of his touch?

When was the last time he'd wanted to touch anyone at all?

"If Sasha just turned a little to the left she could…" Jean murmured, a little breathlessly.

Irked—with Jean's words and his own thoughts—Levi finally spoke. "What are you brats doing?"

Jean and Connie whirled in place, their eyes comically wide. "H-Heichou!"

He waited.

Connie sputtered. "Sasha got tangled in the tree."

He felt a little more than exasperated. "I can see that, Springer. What I'm asking is _how._"

Jean scratched the back of his head, his words awkward and stilted. "She was trying to make a spider web with the 3D maneuver gear."

Connie desperately tried to choke down his laughter.

He almost sighed. "Why aren't you helping Ackerman?"

Connie was still laughing too hard to speak.

Jean cleared his throat, gesturing to Levi's gear. "We don't have our 3D maneuver gear, Heichou."

Levi looked up at Mikasa. "Neither does Ackerman."

"She…was the only one able to climb up the tree." Jean admitted, a slight blush on his cheeks.

He examined the tree again. It did look rather impossible to get up the tree without their gear. But if anyone could manage a seemingly impossible physical feat of strength and prowess it was Mikasa Ackerman.

He supposed he had better shoot up there but he wasn't quite sure his gear was in working order. As they'd returned it had begun to sputter and jerk.

Sasha gave a sudden sharp cry and they all looked back up.

Mikasa had finally freed Sasha from her entanglement and Sasha had slid down. She landed on the branch beneath Mikasa's feet and with the sudden added weight it snapped beneath them.

_Shit. _

He ran forward—skidding to a stop when Mikasa grabbed a hold of Sasha's jacket collar and grabbed onto the branch above her head. She'd reacted quickly enough to save them both from the fall, carrying both their weight with one arm—but she was straining, and the branch she clung to looked about ready to crack any second, too.

"Hold still, Ackerman." He barked and she nodded grimly.

She was dangling in a rather nasty cluster of thin branches, and he scanned for a sturdy one about them quickly. He angled himself and shot up swiftly, landing lightly on a thick branch beneath them.

"Let her go."

Mikasa gave him a grim look and then released her grip on Sasha's jacket. Sasha gave a little screech as she fell through the air, landing on him heavily. He held steady, grunting and heaving her onto her feet beside him. She swayed and he had to grab her to keep her from toppling over.

"Heichou, I…I was upside down for a while."

He looked at her critically. She wasn't really able to stand on her own. He looked up to see Mikasa gripping the branch with two hands.

"Don't try to pull yourself up, Ackerman. That branch doesn't look too sturdy. Stay there until I can get Braus on the ground."

"I can get down on my own, Heichou."

He gave her a hard look. "Stay put." He shifted Sasha over his shoulder and swung them down, landing on the ground with a curse when she nearly fell. He barely managed to hold them both up. He glared at Jean and Connie. "Take her, Springer."

Connie scurried forward and lifted Sasha in his arms. "Hey Sasha."

She gave him a loopy grin. "I was a spider."

Connie gave her a tender smile. "Spiders don't get caught in their own webs."

She frowned in confusion. "They don't, do they?" She curled up a little. "Do spiders vomit?"

"What?"

"I'm going to vomit."

"Shit." Connie shifted from left to right frantically. "Heichou, I—"

"Take her to the medics." He looked back up at Mikasa. The damn spoiled brat was pulling herself up, the branch bowing beneath her weight dangerously. He angled himself to shoot up again. "I told you not to move, Ackerman."

He couldn't really tell from this distance but it looked like she was glaring at him again. He also thought he heard her muffle a few curses, though all he was able to decipher were two words that sounded like 'short' and 'ass'.

He had half a mind to leave her up there for a few hours when the branch suddenly broke.

And she was falling, cutting through the leaves and branches.

He shot up instantly, catching her in mid-air, her weight crashing onto him and throwing him off balance. His gear gave a thick sputter and it jerked, flipping them. _Damn it._ The cables snapped taught as they hurled down and as he tried to shield her he felt Mikasa pull _him_ forward.

They hit the ground hard, his knees and arms dragging across the ground as they skidded to a stop. She'd somehow managed to get beneath him but he'd cradled her head in his arms, feeling the blood sinking through his clothing and onto the rocks and grass beneath them. He was winded, his lungs aching, but he forced himself up on his arms.

She'd landed on her side, her head cradled in his hand.

"Ackerman."

Her eyes were shut, her inky lashes fluttering against her flushed pale skin.

"Ackerman?" He bit out, a bit worried when she didn't respond.

And then he saw the blood trickle down her temple.

"Shit," He slid his arms beneath her and heaved her up against his chest, ignoring the pain that shot through his arms.

Jean scrambled towards him. "I've got her, Heichou."

Levi glared at him. "What you can do is get your moronic friend Springer and tell whoever is on stable duty that _you two _will be shoveling horse shit for the rest of this damn year."

Jean fumbled and Levi continued to limp away.

Her head was dangling back over his arm. He shifted her up so that her head lolled into the crook of his shoulder, her soft, jagged pants brushing against his damp throat. The blood was trickling down the side of her face and he felt his stomach twist. Either she'd hit her head on a branch on her way down or he hadn't been able to shield her properly.

He hadn't expected her to pull him _onto _her.

_Why had she tried to protect him too? _

"You're a bloody idiot, Ackerman."

She looked up at him with soft black eyes. "I'm fine, Heichou."

He almost scowled. Of course she'd try to pretend she was fine. He _felt_ the limpness of her body in his arms, however and knew she wouldn't be able to stand for the life of her.

"Shut up, Ackerman. I told you not to move. It was an order and you disobeyed it."

_You never bloody listen. _

"I fell…" Mikasa's eyes were open and glazed, her little bewildered frown tugging at him. It was a little odd—and endearing—seeing such a powerful woman look like a child.

He nodded grimly. "I caught you."

She shut her eyes, looked a little dismayed. "Again?"

He smirked a little, remembering the time he'd saved her from the female titan. "Again."

* * *

Levi ignored the protests of the medics as he walked towards his bedroom. He'd just gotten some bloody scrapes, after all, nothing as severe as a possible concussion, anyway. He yanked off his jacket and shirt quickly, stepping into his shower. He let the hot water run over him for a few moments, wincing as all the slices and cuts throbbed over his body.

As much as he loathed admitting it he was worried. It seemed incredibly moronic that a soldier as skilled as Ackerman could have died from a stupid tumble down a tree. He was angry—almost _enraged, _really—that those idiots had taken it so lightly. He'd seen enough of his comrades die fruitlessly to know how fleeting life could be. He hadn't been able to save any of them—had _let_ enough of them die for a cause to feel less than human.

To feel more than dead.

He'd seen her fall and felt that familiar, vicious twist in his gut—and he'd caught her, barely been able to prevent her skull from getting smashed when she had somehow managed to put herself beneath him the split second before they'd hit the ground.

And for what? Because some idiots were making_ spider webs?_ She'd almost died for their sheer stupidity.

But she hadn't. And he'd saved her.

But for the few he had saved there were hundreds he hadn't. And he drowned in their blood every night. He raked his wet hair back with raw fingers.

The water was tinged red as it swirled down the drain.

* * *

**A/N—I know this is a short chapter & it was all from Levi's perspective. I hope you didn't mind. I sort of like (more than like, really) writing from his point of view. I hope I'm not screwing it up. **

**To the people who reviewed or liked & even reblogged it on tumblr—I'm a little more than in love with you. You were very encouraging. And so, I've decided to ask you guys for a favor.**

**Every chapter is going to begin with "Un" **

**For example the first chapter is titled "Understanding Subtlety"**

**This chapter is titled "Untangling Spider Webs"**

**I'm asking you all for a title that begins with "Un" and I'll write a chapter based off of it. It can be anything, any SNK character and any word that starts with those two letters...like "Undermining Heichou" or "Undesired Jean" or "Unknowing Eren"**

**Let me know here or on tumblr. **

**I'll give it about two weeks.**

**Thanks for any suggestions and reviews. You really have no idea how happy they make me. **


	3. Unsure and Unwell

She wasn't quite awake, but the muffled male voices lured her away from her slumber.

"And their condition?"

Mikasa, even half asleep, knew that voice. _Levi? _She was slow to wake; her lids heavy, her lashes fluttering as she heard the two men speak quietly.

"They're both fine, Heichou. They should be able to be released tomorrow. Well, at least Braus."

"Will she be able to shovel horse shit?"

"Wh-what?"

She heard him make a soft ticking sound of annoyance. "Shoveling horse shit. Will she be able to do it?"

She could hear the medic fumble for a response. "Ah, perhaps, not until the end of the week, Heichou."

Levi sighed. His next question was a bit hesitant but nonetheless wrapped in his usual cool tone. "And Ackerman?"

"Ah, I'm afraid she won't be able to shovel horse—ah, manure for—"

"Not that. I meant how is her condition? Does she have a concussion?"

Mikasa felt herself frown, her fingertips twitching over the stifling sheet over her. She forced her heavy lids open and looked about her. There was a bed beside her and Sasha was quietly asleep on it, her soft brown hair spread out across the pillow. She shifted her head to the right, squinting at the bright moonlight streaming through the window.

Had she really slept all day? And why was Levi here at this time, asking about her health?

"She doesn't have a concussion. Head wounds tend to be a little dramatic. However, her body is badly bruised. She shouldn't use her 3D maneuver gear or do anything strenuous for the next two weeks, to be safe."

_Two weeks? _With a pained grimace, she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

They both looked at her a little blankly.

She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. "I'm fine." She swung her legs off the bed and paused when a wave of dizziness struck her.

"Mikasa, please—you are not well enough to—" The medic fluttered over her nervously.

"Thank you but I feel fine–"

"Ackerman," Levi bit out quietly. "Get back into bed."

Their gazes clashed briefly, and she jutted out her chin slightly. "I'm fine."

"Did I ask if you were?" He crossed his arms—his bandaged arms—and gave her a dark look. "Get back into bed, Ackerman. Or are you going to defy that order, too?"

She gritted her teeth together. "I need to go to the bathroom."

He grabbed a chair and pulled it up beside her bed, sitting in it and staring her down. "Go ahead. Make it quick."

She huffed a little. Was he really going to wait her out? She stood shakily. The medic stepped towards her but she held out a hand to ward him off. "I don't need help."

He nodded and she shuffled forward ungracefully, every muscle in her body throbbing and tightening against her will. She entered the small bathroom and shut the door, locking it for good measure. After relieving herself and splashing her hot face with cold water, she looked at her reflection grimly.

She was filthy. Her hair was limp and stiffened with dried blood, her skin looking bloodless and paper pale. She had deep purple shadows beneath her eyes, her lips roughly chapped.

She'd never really concerned herself with her looks, had never really put a conscious effort towards her appearance. It wasn't that she was _adverse _to it; it was simply that she had never given it thought. Really, how could she when she always ended up covered in sweat, dirt and blood?

She eyed the shower behind her and decided that crawling back into bed in her grimy state was something she couldn't tolerate. She tugged off the flimsy white gown and turned the water on, stepping in. Her breath caught as the water streamed over her overheated skin, her fingers rubbing the back of her eyelids soothingly.

Was it only because she felt dirty?

Or was it because she had felt unbearably self-conscious in her filthy state before Levi?

She drank a mouthful of water as her thoughts ventured into precarious territory. When the medics had tended over her Sasha had spoken rapidly, asking her if she was okay, asking for her forgiveness, thanking her profusely.

It had made Mikasa feel uncomfortable. Not only because it made her seem saint-like, but because she was far from it. She had saved Sasha—incompetently—for selfish reasons. If it had been anyone else up there she would have aided them anyway but seeing the way _she'd_ dangled treacherously had made her stomach clench uneasily. She kept remembering her quirky little laugh and smiles, the way she'd hover over her when she ate, the way she wasn't intimidated or fazed by her aloofness at all.

And that was when she'd realized it.

She'd grown attached to Sasha.

She'd been determined to have only Eren and Armin preoccupy whatever was left of her mangled heart but this girl, with her innocence and childishness, with her terror and her bravery, with her unorthodox humor and methods, had wormed herself a place beneath her walls.

They'd become friends. And she didn't have many.

And then there was Levi.

When he'd caught her and his gear had jerked and sputtered she'd felt another wave of panic grip her. Hadn't he gotten hurt for her once before? Was she really going to let it happen again? She'd been overcome with a fierce need to shield him, to _do _something, and so she'd used her weight against him, forced her body beneath his to break his fall. They'd hit the ground, and she hadn't really been able to breathe or think, but when he'd lifted himself off her and called her name she'd felt so stupidly relieved that she'd succeeded in keeping him unharmed.

And that was when she realized something else.

Levi had wormed himself a place within her as well. Perhaps it was only her petty need to repay the favor, or her desire to show him that she was a worthy soldier because she'd fumbled in front of him one too many times to be acceptable, but she realized she wanted his recognition.

She shut the water off and reached for the bundle of towels stacked outside the door.

_"Did you really puke on the Heichou's boots?" Sasha had whispered mischievously._

_ Mikasa tried to recall if she had. "I don't know."_

_ Sasha giggled. "Connie said he took a whole hour in the shower." _

Mikasa smirked as she dried her bruised body. First she'd gotten horse saliva all over his hands. Now she'd retched onto his boots. While she may crave his recognition he must loathe her. He must associate her name with uncleanliness.

Reluctantly, she pulled her papery gown back on.

Why did she want to look clean and presentable to him now? What did she care if she was filthy and haggard before him? She'd never felt so painfully self-aware with anyone else.

She ran her fingers through her wet hair in a pathetic attempt to comb it.

This really was ridiculous. Opening the door determinedly, she stepped back into her room—and faltered.

He was asleep.

He was leaning limply onto the back of the chair, his arms loosely hanging on each side of him. His head was slanting back at an awkward angle, his lips parted, his breath slow and deep and steady.

She stood over him for a moment, her dark eyes absorbing the rare display of vulnerability curiously.

Here, in the dark, with the silver moonlight painted over his sharp, angular features, with his harshness softened, she had the unsurprising realization that he was quite attractive.

She'd admitted he was handsome, reluctantly, with his standoffish ways, his arrogance and his barbed tongue. But it had held the appeal of pretty but bitter food. While she may have let her gaze linger a little too long on his sharp eyes and aristocratic mouth and cheekbones, felt her breath quicken at the deepness of his voice or been much too enthralled with his long elegant fingers, it was simply that; a shallow sort of appeal.

And then he'd displayed his depth.

And his appeal had tugged at her ruthlessly.

A man she'd so neatly placed in a box of ice had thawed. A man she'd loathed and vowed to hurt had saved her, saved Eren, had held her hand while they'd fed the horse, had caught her mid-air and scraped his arms bloody and raw to shield her. A man she'd detested had come to ask for her health in the middle of the night—and seemed worried.

Each act had sifted up a flicker of heat until he was no longer ice but flesh and warmth and every time she found his gaze on her she'd felt uncharacteristically clumsy.

He shifted restlessly.

Unsurely, she touched his forehead, pushing away a stray lock of black hair.

His brow was furrowed. His breathing was a little too quick, the corners of his mouth tightening unpleasantly. Was he having a bad dream?

Frowning, she let her fingertips trace the creases in his forehead—stiffened a little when he made a soft sound deep in his throat. He stilled again, still deep in his troubled slumber. She traced her nail down over his temple and the side of his face, lingering at the hard angle of his jaw. She smoothed her finger over the bridge of his nose, pausing at the bow of his upper lip.

He stopped frowning. His breathing slowed. She felt her own breathing quicken as she eyed his parted lips. She wondered idly what a kiss would feel like.

What his kisses would feel like.

But she really shouldn't be thinking such things about him. She'd just wanted to soothe him from whatever shadows had been gripping him. And from the serenity softening his face she had succeeded.

She smirked a little to herself, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment.

She turned and struggled to pull herself on the bed, but her legs were shaky and stiff. She scowled a little, leaning forward and bending her knee up—and then she buckled.

He caught her a second before her knees hit the ground, his stiffly bandaged arms tight around her waist, her back pressed to his chest. His breath puffed warmly against her ear and neck, making chills rake across her skin.

_He'd been awake?_

The deepness of his voice made her shiver unwillingly. "Oi, Mikasa…" She felt him inhale slowly, her heart racing at the sound of her name on his lips. "Are you going to keep making me catch you?"

She swallowed, refusing to be flustered. "You could let me fall, Heichou."

To her complete and utter surprise, he gave a small dark chuckle, the sound oddly thrilling. "You're just as bratty as Eren."

Still he held her up beside the bed, her knees half folded, his arms around her.

Very slowly, he pulled her up and sat her on the bed. She felt a little irritated with her weakened body, the feeling amplified by the fact that Levi was the one who had to lift up her slack. She sat on the edge of the bed, her bare legs dangling over it's side.

His fingers flicked her wet hair away from her face carelessly. "You showered."

She nodded and crossed her arms. "You fell asleep."

He sat back in his chair, crossing his legs in that prissy way of his. "I haven't slept very well."

She frowned. "Because you have nightmares?"

He cocked his head, his eyes glimmering in the moonlight. "How would you know if I had nightmares?"

"You were frowning in your sleep."

He watched her carefully. "Is that why you were touching me just now?"

She felt herself flush a little and out of pure habit she reached to tug her scarf up—and found only her bare neck. She scanned the room quickly, felt her breath quicken. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"My scarf."

He shrugged. "Hell if I know." He paused for a moment. "You didn't have it on when I carried you."

She clenched her hands into white fists. "It's in the tree then."

He nodded. "Probably."

She breathed in slowly. She knew he wouldn't let her get it, at least not now. She was going to have to wait until they released her tomorrow, and then she'd have to retrieve it when he wasn't watching.

"Don't try to climb up that stupid tree, Ackerman. It's just a scarf."

She shut her eyes, remembering how cold and icy she'd felt after seeing her parents brutally murdered. The sense of hopelessness and confusion tearing at her despair threatening to engulf her—and she remembered the warmth and security that had returned when Eren had wrapped it around her and pulled her with him.

_Home. _

"Or, maybe it isn't just a stupid scarf." Levi sighed in exasperation, having read her expression. "We'll deal with it tomorrow. Get some rest for now."

She looked at him. "Tomorrow?"

His look was grim as he stood. "We'll get your dirty scarf tomorrow." He pushed back on her shoulders, her head hitting her pillow. He flattened his hands beside each side of her head as he gave her an authoritive look. "Now sleep."

She smiled a little and turned over to her side. "Yes, Heichou."

His long pale fingers were dangerously close to her mouth, splayed out over her pillow. She inhaled shakily and shut her eyes. "Good night, Heichou."

He lingered over her for a few more moments, simply examining her. She felt her pulse deepen in response, felt a little more than breathless. She'd never had such an intense, thorough focus on her, the energy between them crackling. She peeked at him from the corner of her lashes, her curiosity getting the best of her.

His expression knocked the wind out of her.

His brow was furrowed once again, his usually cold gaze softened with a lazy heat. His lips were parted, and his breath was quick and light. His eyes traced her features, almost possessively, tracing down her exposed throat and even lower.

She couldn't quite describe the feeling that bloomed within her chest, an almost intoxication, a very feminine hunger making her throat bone dry. It was heady, the sense of power she felt, of being able to stir such fire within such an icy man. How many times had she been looked at with want? It had never made her feel like this, made her feel triumphant and powerful. The animal-like looks she'd received from others had made her grimace, made her only feel disgust and discomfort.

But Levi was looking at her with a very mature, very intelligent and very dark desire, and it gave her the same sense of elation she had whenever she'd accomplished the nigh physically impossible; it made her want to push harder to see just how far she could stretch herself, and him, thin.

Slowly, he lowered his head, her entire body locking into place. Reflexively she shifted onto her back, boldly catching his gaze with hers. She'd never been touched this way before, and at the thought of her inexperience she felt a sudden flicker of unease. Levi was older than her, more skillful, perhaps in more ways than one, and she felt a very unusual sense of insecurity freeze her up. He paused for a moment, seeming to sense her hesitation. "Relax." His mouth traced over her cheekbone and slid lower. "I wouldn't dream of taking advantage of you in your current state." She felt his warm breath brush her ear, ruffling her hair and making chills spread across her skin. "You'll have to be at your full strength for me." His words were murmured against her jaw. "Good night, Mikasa." He pulled away.

She didn't know if he left or if he stayed but when the thrashing of her heart finally subsided, her exhaustion tugged her under almost instantly.

* * *

"You're hurt." Erwin's eyes watched him astutely.

Levi shrugged as he sat, his chair across Erwin's massive desk. "Scratches, mostly."

Erwin didn't look convinced. "You were refusing medical treatment."

Levi glanced at his bandaged arms and hands pointedly. "I accepted it after I showered."

Erwin sighed deeply. "And Mikasa Ackerman?"

He crossed his arms. "Bump to her head and some bruises. She's thickheaded enough that she should be fine with some bed rest."

Erwin raised a heavy brow. "Good. In that case you will be escorting Ackerman to the Military Police base tomorrow morning."

Levi stiffened. "Military Police?"

Erwin nodded. "Their numbers were decimated and the King is looking to restock his supply."

Levi scowled. "Mikasa made her choice to join the scouting legion long ago. Our numbers dwindle on a daily basis. The number of losses they've suffered is nothing in comparison to ours. We're suffering a massive shortage as it is."

"He's set his eyes on Mikasa, the way he once set his eyes on you. In fact he may try to convince you again. The rumors of yours and Mikasa's prowess have stretched quite far. He tried to lure you with the promise of money and safety, didn't he?"

Levi clenched his jaw and looked away. He rather found the thought of the man trying to woo Mikasa to stay with him a bit more than infuriating. Once he saw how beautiful she was wouldn't he try to take her in more ways than one? Not that Mikasa was one to let anyone take advantage of her. "She won't go." His words were forceful, and he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or Irvin.

Erwin leaned back in his chair. "And since when did you become so familiar with Mikasa Ackerman that you are able to predict her decisions?"

"Tch," Levi kept his gaze averted. "I'm not familiar with her at all. Everyone knows that she has an unhealthy devotion to Eren. She wouldn't leave him if her life depended on it."

"I know you well enough to know that you saved Mikasa from that fall like you would have saved anyone from that fall. However, it did not escape my attention that you visited her while she was bedridden and that you…fell asleep there."

It was a rare occurrence when someone could make Levi feel uncomfortable and scrutinized, but if anyone could wield that power over him it was Erwin Smith.

"I haven't been sleeping very well. I sat by her bed to make sure she obeyed the medics orders and I fell asleep. There isn't anything more to it."

_Was there?_

He felt the heat stir in his veins when he remembered how she'd shifted onto her back so readily, not backing down an inch despite the confusion that had clouded her dark gaze. Her inexperience was obvious but her determination had thrilled him. She was a quick learner, wasn't she? He knew she'd be capable of reducing him to shreds in the bedroom. But he was much more interested in making her fall apart for him instead. Yet he couldn't help but want to speak to her and understand her, also. Levi was used to physical desire—every human was—but what he wasn't used to was wanting to get to know someone so very thoroughly. What he didn't understand was wanting her to understand him.

Yes, there was much more to it.

Erwin, however, seemed to understand his need for privacy and dismissed it with a sigh. "Will you escort her or will I have to do it?"

Levi stood briskly, nodding respectfully. "Of course I'll take her." He walked away. "I trust you." He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest as he left.

* * *

Sasha was wriggling a little impatiently as the doctors examined her.

"Stay still." The elderly man chided.

She nodded, eyeing Mikasa over his shoulder. Was she awake yet?

"When are we going to have breakfast?" She asked the doctor as he scribbled something down.

The doctor looked exasperated. "They'll bring food once I've deemed you well enough."

She felt a little iciness grip her. "And if you don't deem me well enough?"

He put the pen down and looked at her a little smugly. "You won't eat."

She felt herself pale a little, and tried to be much more obedient as he finished up his examination. As he finished a medic walked in with two trays of food.

She eyed the trays out of the corner of her eye as her stomach grumbled. "I can…can I eat now?"

The doctor waved at her dismissively as he left the room.

She bounced up onto her feet and began tucking food into her mouth with a wave of relief. They hadn't let her or Mikasa eat last night. She eyed Mikasa as she chewed thoughtfully. Should she wake her? She mulled. She'd woken earlier—much earlier—and had found a sleeping Levi on a chair beside Mikasa's bed. He'd looked rather uncomfortable so she'd prodded his shoulder nervously.

He'd shot up and left the room rather quickly, mumbling something about horse shit. He must have some very strange dreams.

It had been odd finding him there beside Mikasa's bed. It looked as if he'd fallen asleep watching her. She wondered if she should mention it to her.

But she'd remembered waking in the night to hear them murmuring quietly. She'd peered at them in curiosity to find Levi's arms wrapped around Mikasa, his mouth against her ear as he whispered something. It had sounded—and _looked_—rather intimate, and she'd only burrowed herself deeper into her sheets to try and make herself more invisible.

She was comfortable with Mikasa and knew many saw their friendship as a bit odd. But she liked the girl. And, as she'd gotten to know her, she'd seen that Mikasa was a bit more than lonely. She had Eren and Armin and was admired—and intimidated—by many of their peers but even surrounded by them all she always seemed…apart. And without even really trying, she'd become her friend. Friends could ask personal questions, couldn't they?

She remembered the way Mikasa had looked over her should at Levi, the flush of color in her cheeks, the heat in her gaze matched with his.

She probably shouldn't mention it. Yet.

She grabbed a hunk of bread and sat beside her on the bed, curling her legs beneath her. Mikasa stirred heavily, her dark eyes fluttering prettily in the sunlight.

She pushed the bread into her mouth tentatively. "Morning, Mikasa."

Mikasa rubbed her eyes groggily as she chewed. "Sasha?"

Sasha pushed the bread against her lips again. "How do you feel?"

Mikasa sat up and pushed the bread away. "Fine."

Sasha grinned at her impishly. "I'm glad." She toyed with her half eaten bread. "I'm sorry."

Mikasa shook her head and swung her pretty, pale legs over the edge of the bed. She seemed to hesitate before she spoke, a little frown knitting her brows together. "We're friends. You would have helped me if I'd been tangled, wouldn't you?"

Sasha paused. "Yeah." She swallowed a bite then giggled. "I doubt you'd be trying to make spider webs, though." It was a rather funny image, though. She wondered if Mikasa ever acted silly—besides feeding her the way she did sometimes, of course.

Mikasa smiled softly. "I might later on."

"Later on?"

Mikasa nodded. "My scarf…" Her hands touched her exposed collar bones self-consciously. "I lost it. I'm sure it's in the branches of the trees."

Oh. The scarf Mikasa was very attached to. She felt guilt wrack her again. Sasha took another bite. "I'm sure we'll get it in no time." She'd climb back up the tree if she had to.

Mikasa's nearly invisible smile returned as she pulled the bread out of Sasha's hands. "Thank you."

Sasha blinked. She'd offered her _some _of the bread, not _all _of it. "Hey, Mikasa, do you think you could—?"

But Mikasa had already stuffed the rest of the bread into her mouth.

* * *

He eyed his surroundings once more, his lips pressed together in irritation. He was alone. With a quick deep breath, he shot up, swinging himself neatly onto the branch Mikasa's scarf was entangled on.

The branch bowed heavily beneath his weight, and for once he was rather thankful he wasn't a heavy man. He hunched down and stretched his arm, managing to snag the soft cloth by the edges of his fingertips.

He shouldn't even be doing this. Or, at least, he should have gotten one of the other brats to do it. It was a shitty scarf.

But he remembered the lines of strain at the corners of her dark, alluring eyes, the way her breath had quickened and her fingers had clenched. She wasn't a very expressive woman but he'd seen her pained reaction nonetheless.

He tugged it and cursed when it wouldn't give, and he was about to pull out his blade to chop the damn tip of the branch off when it suddenly tore free with a sharp ripping sound.

He scowled. He held one half of the scarf while the other was still wrapped around the thin tip of the branch. He reached forward and untangled the torn off half, standing. He examined the shredded crimson cloth in dismay. It was torn and filthy and ruined. She'd be disappointed.

How the hell was he going to give it to her now?

"Heichou?"

He looked down.

Mikasa stood on the ground beneath him, a small frown creasing her pale brow. "Is that my scarf?"

He stuffed it into his jacket pocket and swung down, landing before her easily. He didn't take out the scarf right away—only eyed her critically. She was wearing her uniform, and to his surprise—though he supposed he really shouldn't be given her tenacity—she had her gear on.

He watched her expression carefully as he spoke. "You were going to climb up the tree, weren't you?"

She clenched her jaw, hesitated for only a moment, before she nodded. "I didn't want to lose my scarf, Heichou." She frowned again, her dark eyes confused. "Were you…were you retrieving my scarf for me?"

He looked away and tugged the torn scraps out of his pocket. "I tore it when I tried to untangle it." He eyed her reaction from the corner of his eye.

She looked as devastated as he imagined she would be. She took them from him carefully, her pale fingers curling into the soft scarlet material tightly. Her pained expression was gone in an instant and replaced by that familiar unflappable expression she always wore. "Thank you, Heichou." Her voice was low and raspy.

He could quite stem his bitterness at having disappointed her. He sighed wearily. "How do you feel?"

She stuffed the scarf into her own jacket pocket. "I feel fine, Heichou."

He felt a little more than exasperated. She could probably be limbless and bleeding to death and she'd always be 'fine.'

"I'll be escorting you to Military Police base tomorrow. Make sure you eat and rest as much as you can today."

A tiny frown creased her brow. "Why am I being escorted to the Military Police?"

Levi shrugged with deceptive nonchalance. "The pigs want you to join them."

Her gaze hardened to that familiar steel. "Do I have a choice?"

He watched her carefully. "Of course you do."

"Then I won't go."

He couldn't quite prevent his own dark smile. "Oh, you'll go. When the King summons you, you really don't have a choice."

She clenched her jaw. "I'm expected to travel all that way to simply reject his offer in person?" She stepped closer to him, her voice lowered. "I'm not an idiot, Heichou. Do I really have a choice in this matter?"

If he were a lesser man he may have been frightened by her eerily restrained fury. Instead he only felt fascination and an almost pride that she so easily rejected the prospect of _honorably _being summoned by the king himself. She was loyal down to her very bones.

Why was that so very thrilling?

Perhaps it had something to do with her sudden proximity.

"You are expected to do just that." He leaned against the tree and crossed his arms, tried to clear his head. "The only thing you should be worried about is your resoluteness. The only thing you should be worried about is whether you may be swayed by money and safety and corruptness. Pigs spread filth where they can, whether they're decorated as unicorns or not."

Her elegant fingers clenched into fists and she nodded curtly. She turned swiftly and began to walk away. "Of course, Heichou."

"Ackerman," He called but she ignored him. He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Mikasa." He called quietly.

She stopped.

"You don't have a choice on whether you go see him." She held her shoulders stiffly. "But you do have a choice on whether you stay with him."

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, and the memory of how she'd felt gathered in his arms from the night before suddenly flickered through him. He should have bloody kissed her. Wondering how she tasted was driving him crazy. "How do I know I can trust you?" She asked him and it cooled him considerably.

He raised a brow at her haughtiness. "Oi, I've only saved yours and the brat's life more than a few times."

Her small smile undid him. She nodded. "I'll trust you…for now."

He watched her as she walked away from him, when a sudden thought occurred to him. "Oi, Ackerman."

She gave him a questioning look.

"Your gear is off limits. Take it off. Keep it off."

"I'll try, Heichou."

"Tch." She damn well better though knowing her penchant for disobeying orders he doubted she really would. He watched as she disappeared around the corner.

He really wasn't sure if he could make it another day without kissing the damn woman.

Their little trip tomorrow should be interesting, to say the very least.

* * *

**A/N— I took a bit longer than I'd thought I would. Forgive me. I'm still a little amazed that anyone really likes my writing. Thank you for all of your suggestions, here and on tumblr. They gave me quite the number of ideas. I have most of them set up on a list with the plot suggestions beneath them. I really appreciate the help. You're lovely in every which way. **

** I also took a few of your suggestions and tried my hand at Mikasa's point of view in this chapter, mostly. But then I reverted back to Levi, I mean really, I'm kind of hopeless I can't stay out of his head. **

** The next chapter will be called Uniforms and Unicorns, as suggested by you all. Which inspired this little escapade to come. **

** We may or may not have a jealous Heichou (maybe a jealous Mikasa?). They may or may not get into a little brawl with a few unlucky thugs. Lack of clothing may or may not be an issue.**


	4. Uniforms and Unicorns

_In which humanity's strongest soldiers kick some ass_

* * *

"You sure you don't need help?" Hanji asked him as she wiped her glasses with her shirt, her small frown a little humorous.

Levi scowled, stiffly pushing his arms into his jacket. His soreness hadn't been so bad yesterday—but this morning he'd barely rolled over in bed and his entire body had gone into spasms. "I'm perfectly fine."

Hanji smirked as she pushed her glasses back on. "Aren't you in a chipper mood this morning, Levi? Here, have some tea. It ought to help relax your muscles a bit."

Levi pressed his lips together prissily. The last time she'd given him a tea to 'relax' him he'd woken up on the floor, open-mouthed with a pool of drool beneath his cheek. Disgusting.

Her train of thought seemed to follow his and she giggled to herself. "I'll half the dosage."

Levi shook his head. "Don't bother." He looked out the window with narrowed eyes. The sunlight was just starting to bleed into the sky. "I need to get going."

Hanji nodded, leaping up when he went for the door. "Here." She stuffed something—bread?—into his hands. "You should eat something before you leave."

He nodded grudgingly and opened the door.

"It has meat!" She shouted in a sing-song voice and he sighed, shutting the door with a shake of his head.

The woman was as strange as they made them.

He was walking down the hall when he saw Jean muttering to himself in front of Mikasa's room door. He looked filthy as hell—he could smell the horse shit stench from here. He'd almost forgotten he'd placed him on stable duty.

Jean knocked on her door uncertainly.

He heard Mikasa call out, sounding strained. "Come in."

Jean entered, leaving the door open a crack.

The bloody brat obviously wasn't busy enough if he had time to be knocking on her door. He was persistent—had been for…years, if what he'd heard was true. While his infatuation irritated him there was a certain look on Jean's face whenever Mikasa appeared that unsettled him deeply. There was a softness to it, a tenderness and warmth that left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

If he didn't know better he would say Jean was in love with her.

He wondered if Mikasa knew.

He wondered if she felt anything in return. It would be logical, wouldn't it? They were both around the same age; they'd both trained together and Jean had also risked his life for her. Yes, it would be rational if Mikasa returned his feelings. Expected, even.

And he shouldn't give a damn.

There was a strange heat and unease that bloomed within his chest and stomach, and he felt his fists clench. He slid towards her door, feeling pulled forward unwillingly, invisible strings snapping his muscles taut as he gripped the door handle and watched through the open crack.

* * *

Mikasa's body was much, much worse. She leaned forward onto the desk, pressing her damp palms flat against the scarred, polished surface. This was ridiculous. She'd woken with a skull splitting head ache and barely been able to shower and dress herself this morning—and it left her feeling sapped of her usual strength. She glared at her jacket, only one of her arms through the sleeve. It dangled off her shoulder haphazardly.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in." She muttered.

Jean stepped in, looking flushed and hesitant and…filthy. "Hey, Mikasa." He fidgeted slightly. "I've noticed you…ah, the horse…your nervousness."

She frowned a little. It took her only a moment to understand. "My nervousness?"

He scratched the back of his head and swallowed thickly. He spotted the way her jacket hung off her shoulder awkwardly. "Do you need help?"

She looked away. She'd been hoping it would be Armin or Eren. "If you don't mind."

He came towards her. "Hold still." He shifted behind her, adjusting her jacket gently. "Put your arm in." She slid it in with a grimace, her entire back cramping. "There you go." Jean murmured, stepping away with a fierce blush. "Ah, your hair is under the jacket…" He stepped forward before she could protest, his dirt smeared hands reaching up to loosen her hair.

"Thank you."

His hands lingered on her jaw, his eyes on her mouth.

Levi had looked at her like this, with heat and want. He'd shown a rare tenderness in those brief moments, a darkness that had threatened to consume her—a look that made her wonder what kind of sensations he could tug out of her. She'd felt anxious, almost anticipating his promising touch.

Jean's thumb slid over her jaw tenderly.

Why didn't it feel the same? There was no hitch in her breathing, no nervousness or desire burning within her as she observed the way Jean was looking at her. She was only calm. Still and in control as always.

She pulled away. "Thank you, Jean."

He stepped back. "Y-you're welcome." He blinked rapidly. "I saddled my horse for you. She's much calmer than your horse. I thought it would be better for you since you aren't at your best health right now."

Surprised, she nodded. "Thank you. You didn't have to."

He shook his head. "I should have helped you when you were trying to get Sasha down. I should have gone for my gear or gotten someone who already had their gear but instead I just watched. And you were hurt. I'm sorry."

She frowned. "Jean, you didn't—"

The door opened abruptly, and they both turned to see Levi enter. He looked at them icily, his brows raised haughtily. "Forgive me for interrupting your little tête-à-tête but we need to leave. Out, Ackerman. Kirschtein, get back to the stables. The horses can't shovel their own shit."

His words were stiff and cruel—Jean fumbled as he nodded, looking a little disgruntled.

"Yes, Heichou." He left the room with his head bowed.

She narrowed her eyes at him. It was one thing to enter her bedroom without knocking and another to tell people to leave it as if he owned her space.

She pulled her torn scarf off the chair, bundling it into a ball. "I'll be out in a minute."

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "We need to leave. Now."

She clenched her jaw. Just moments ago she'd put labels on him like 'tender' and 'heated' but now he was all ice and steel, and she wanted to throttle him. She was a fool for thinking anything else of him. "Is it a custom of yours, Heichou, to enter a soldier's room without knocking?"

He looked at her drolly. "Angry that I interrupted your moment with Kirschtein?"

She felt herself flush. "He was helping me with my jacket."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Was he? It rather looked as if he'd much prefer help _remove_ your clothing. I thought I was doing you a favor. He smelled like shit anyway."

She bit back her ire and stuffed her shredded scarf into her jacket pocket, ignoring the way her muscles tightened as she walked towards him. "Is it also a custom of yours to ask your soldiers about their personal relationships?" She was inches from him now, tempted to shove him out the door and lock it for good measure.

His eyes narrowed, his tone dropping several notches. "It is when it involves you." He cocked his head, looking almost mystified. "I want to learn you." His gaze dropped to her mouth again, his words sounding almost unwilling. "I don't really understand it myself."

She felt the air leave her lungs again. Before she could speak—or remember to inhale—he straightened and opened the door. "Come on. We're already late."

She followed behind him, outwardly collected, and inwardly reeling.

* * *

They swung off their horses and entered through the tall gates, a young dark-haired male walking towards them quickly.

When he reached them he bowed respectfully, rigidly, his bowl cut black hair shimmering in the weakening sunlight. "We've been expecting you. I'm Marlo Freudenberg."

"We ran a little late." Levi murmured. The pace they'd set had been a bit brutal but slow nonetheless, their bodies still much too achy for anything more. They'd also been silent the entire time and he'd almost smirked at the way she blushed whenever he caught her looking at him. "This is Mikasa Ackerman."

Marlo said something but Levi's attention was momentarily diverted by the appearance of a group of men behind him.

There were about five of them huddled under the archway, their military police uniforms sloppily worn. Their gazes were none too discreetly eyeing him and Mikasa—lingering more so on her then him.

Levi narrowed his eyes.

Mikasa hesitated for a moment then stepped forward grudgingly.

Marlo looked at her—and blushed vividly. "Mikasa…Ah, Ackerman." He held out his hand and clutched hers, shaking it clumsily. "We've heard plenty about you. They mentioned your skill and bravery but they never mentioned how beautiful you were."

Levi grimaced again hearing their conversation as a young woman brought him a small canteen of water and a horse—he fully intended to prowl about the small town for a few hours, knew he'd be restless if he stayed to wait about here with these corrupt pigs. He drank deeply as he watched her. Did the woman attract men everywhere she went? He watched Mikasa out of the corner of his gaze as he pulled himself onto his horse but she looked as unruffled and composed as always.

She nodded at Marlo curtly. "Thank you."

Marlo gave her a small loopy smile. "Come with me. The king isn't quite ready yet but I can show you around until he is." He offered nervously.

The group of men still stood there, looking almost eager, waiting for Mikasa to walk towards them.

Mikasa, infuriatingly oblivious to Marlo's admiration and the other's lascivious looks, nodded and stepped forward.

The pigs were all relatively young, most of them an impressive size. Yes, she looked ignorant of all of the attention but how long would that last until one of them peaked her interest? Any one of these men could offer her a very comfortable, luxurious life here—safety.

And he shouldn't bloody care.

Snapping, Levi caught her sleeve and tugged her towards him, gripping the sides of her jacket tightly. She struggled but he only pulled her in closer, forcing her on her toes as he yanked her against the side of the horse.

"Heichou, what—?"

Levi ignored her and looked at Marlo. "A moment."

Marlo nodded dumbly. "Of course."

Mikasa was about to protest when he clamped his palm over her soft mouth. "Don't speak." He growled, sending the group of men a pointed glance, relishing the way they looked away. "You will behave. You will hear out all of the king's offers. You will keep your violent tendencies leashed because any wrong move you make reflects on the scouting legion." Releasing her mouth, he let his other hand slide under her jacket, grasping her ribs. He was doing this—publicly—to stake his claim, he knew, as petulant as it was, but he could feel the harsh wave of desire brutally tighten his body, too. "But you will remember your brats, Armin and Eren. You will remember that they need you. You will remember the reason you joined us at all." He reached into her pocket discreetly. "And you will make your choice free of what anyone else needs or wants and pray that you do not regret your choice." He touched her chin, his mouth hovering over hers. "Do you understand?"

Her pulse was thrashing at the base of her pale throat, her jaw clenched. Her gaze screamed a mixture of desire and bloody murder, her fingers painfully tight around his wrist. "Yes, Heichou."

His hands lingered on her briefly. "Good." He murmured in satisfaction, promptly releasing her.

She gave a little huff as she landed on her heels, her blush lovely and tempting. She straightened her jacket self-consciously—looked as if she wanted to say something snarky but bit back her tongue and walked towards Marlo.

He smirked, discreetly stuffing her scarf into his jacket pocket.

He knew she'd make him pay for this later.

* * *

"Here we keep all of our gear." Marlo murmured, his eyes alight with a child-like excitement. He clicked open a heavy case, displaying the gear within it. "Brand new." He beamed, when his gaze suddenly fell. "We rarely get to use it, really."

Mikasa silently agreed. Her gear was a little banged up, scrapes and scuffs marring it, betraying how often she'd used it. She ran her fingertips over the polished surface wonderingly. It looked more like a trophy of sorts, some grand display more than an actual weapon.

Marlo sighed and shut the case, leading her out into the hall again. He'd done this a few times, already; one minute he was excitededly showing her something, bragging about the military police when he suddenly seemed to realize something, and like waking from a dream he'd purse his lips and become momentarily silent. He'd shake it off after a minute, attempting to hide his dismay and Mikasa followed him as he babbled airily.

They rounded a corner when an older man with thinning gray hair appeared, eyeing her appreciatively. "Bringing in fresh meat, eh, Marlo?" He cackled, his pale green gaze locked onto Mikasa as he stepped forward.

Marlo stepped between them protectively, and Mikasa only arched her brow. She really didn't need defending. But Levi _had _warned her to keep her violent tendencies restrained. The scouting legion didn't need any more scrutiny or criticism than it had already received.

Marlo puffed out his chest as he spoke. "This is Mikasa Ackerman of the scouting legion. Her skill is deadly enough to have garnered the attention of our king. She has been brought here to speak with the king as he wishes to offer her a position within his guard. A position that would most likely outrank yours."

The elderly man lifted his hands in surrender, grinning at Marlo wryly. "No need to get all huffy, Marlo. I simply wished to introduce myself."

Marlo shook his head. "I'm giving her a tour. You can introduce yourself afterwards."

The elderly man looked at Mikasa again. "I can show you around. Plenty of spare bedrooms around." He winked.

Marlo clenched his jaw then turned to face Mikasa. "Come on. This way."

He led her down another hall, silent and fuming. He was genuinely upset, she noted, frowning at his back. She wondered why he'd be so angry on her behalf. She'd understand if it had been Eren or perhaps even Armin but Marlo? She'd met him all of a few minutes ago. He seemed to gather his composure as they reached another door.

"And this, well, this is where we have our meetings." Marlo opened the door with a flourish—and stiffened when he saw what was happening within it. Mikasa peeked curiously.

Several men and women were gathered around a large round table. Their military jackets were strewn about the room recklessly, every inch of the tables surface littered with ashes, coins, alcohol and cigars—some still lit others smoked and hollowed. The acrid, suffocating stench of smoke struck them offensively, and Marlo shut the door hastily, clearing his throat and blinking his watery eyes.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, his voice raspy. He pressed his fingers to the backs of his eyelids. "Your impression of us must seem awful. This isn't…this isn't the only thing the Military police is." His dark head was bent in defeat. "I'm sure if someone as brave and skilled as you joined us you could help change things. You could help me make things better."

Surprised, she questioned him. "You wish to change things?"

His frown deepened. "Yes. I want to rid it of corruption—I want being in the military police to be something to be proud of and not something shameful." He touched the emblem of the unicorn on the door wistfully. "Our uniforms might as well be decorated with pigs."

"_Pigs spread filth where they can, whether they're decorated as unicorns or not."_

A young woman appeared around the corner, spotting them and rushing over. "Marlo! The king is ready for her."

Marlo straightened, smiling at Mikasa self-consciously. "Are you ready?"

She inhaled deeply. She felt inexplicably nervous. "I am."

* * *

There was a vast assortment of shops—but Levi was only looking for one in particular. He spotted a grimy window and a shoddy wooden door, a wooden sign atop carved with the symbol of a winding thread and needle.

He pushed the door—knobless—open and eyed the elderly, wrinkled woman who sat perched on a small stool, her thin worn dress rucked up a little scandalously.

She peered at him with squinted eyes. "Need more tailoring, Levi?" She murmured with familiarity, continuing to thread into a paper yellow dress neatly.

He shook his head, eyeing the bareness of her shop and recalling how it had once been full of people and overflowing in a sea of clothing. It seemed she hadn't had much business of late. "Just this, Sophia." He pulled out Mikasa's scarf and handed it to her.

Slowly, moving as if every bone in her body ached, she put down her dress and thread and needle, holding out her wrinkly, veined hands. She grasped the scarf and eyed the frayed edges in dismay. "I have plenty of scarves, Levi; ones much fancier than this."

He shook his head. "It isn't for me. It's for a comrade. This dingy thing…means the world to her."

She arched a thick silver brow at him, grinning her toothless grin. "Giving gifts out now, are we? It's about time you've gotten around to wooing someone. I was beginning to think you were holding out for me."

Levi's brows rose. "You're much too expensive."

She cackled to herself, thumbing through a small tray of spools. "I saw you pass by earlier with a young woman—all self-righteous on your horses. Pretty, that one—exotic, too. Had several of the street rats eyeing her speculatively, muttering about how much they could get for her." She looped a string through the needle deftly. "I knew there wasn't anything to worry about. She had that look about her—the same one you have. The one that says she can very well take care of herself."

Levi sat down on a chair, trying to peer out of the filthy window. "She can."

Sophia chuckled a little to herself. "If you really want to impress her you could just buy her a fancier scarf. There's this one here—look, it matches your eyes. It's what she'll think every time she looks at it."

Levi ignored her goading. "How long will this take you?"

"Repairing the damage should be easy. If you'd like I could give it a good wash and I have some dye out in the back that should make it look new. But that'll cost extra." She held out her hand expectantly.

Muttering beneath his breath, Levi tugged out his coin pouch and handed her the money. She peered at the amount then shook her head. "This only covers the repair and the wash. Not the dye."

"You really are bloody expensive." He doubled the amount.

She looked satisfied. "Give me two hours."

He nodded. "I'll give you one and a half." He left the shop and stepped out into the street.

* * *

"It doesn't only have to be you." He murmured quietly, stopping her midway through the door.

Mikasa paused, her fingers curling around the door handle. She'd heard everything he'd had to say with only half an ear, her mind elsewhere. The money and luxury had held no real appeal to her, had only made her recall the cozy and worn surfaces within the scouting legion, well used and well-loved.

"I've heard about your adopted brother and his friend. I knew asking you to join me also included them. We could overlook the fact that Eren Yeager is a titan shifter—he's proven to be well controlled. He could share in your comfort. He could be safe."

She shut her eyes. His other words had bounced off her easily but these struck her deeply. How desperately had she tried to keep Eren safe? How many times had she almost lost him? Being in the scouting legion she knew it was inevitable—she could lose him at any moment. Could she really keep living wondering, fearing, and dreading that the next time may be the last time?

"_But you will remember your brats, Armin and Eren. You will remember that they need you. You will remember the reason you joined us at all…and you will make your choice free of what anyone else needs or wants and pray that you do not regret your choice."_

She could try to force Eren to join the military police. He'd be safe—or safer here than in the survey corps. But he wouldn't come. He'd fight her tooth and nail. He had purpose burning within him, an ambition that seemed so farfetched and hopeless that it either made people laugh at him or believe in him. And somehow it had infected her, warped her one and only goal to protect Eren into also helping him, helping them all achieve that goal. She was good at it, a natural, dropping titan after titan easily. She was strong, they'd told her plenty of times, even compared her to Levi.

She wondered briefly why he hadn't chosen the military police. He was rather close mouthed about his personal ambitions, about his wants and it was a puzzle she didn't quite understand. Why did he keep fighting? He seemed like the kind of man that could easily spend the rest of his days secluded and alone, without a care in the world. But he kept fighting, his prowess unmatched, a rare rage gripping him madly in those brief moments when he was cutting down titans.

Perhaps he had had someone to protect once. An Eren that he'd done everything to protect but had failed regardless.

This was all speculation of course but she couldn't help but think it because he reminded her of herself.

Could she even try to stay here? Perhaps try to ignore everything, the entire world, in exchange for her soul? No. She refused.

Staying here, wrapped in safety and ignorance—she'd only rot away, body and spirit.

She could never leave Eren to his fate. She couldn't ever forget Armin. She had formed slight, thin bonds with their squad mates. Slight and thin, but precious to her nonetheless.

She'd fought with Levi plenty of times, had struggled long and hard to match him, had been viciously pleased when he'd begun to lean on her, teach her what he could because he'd deemed her capable.

Skilled and deadly, their roles were to protect as many of their comrades as they could. It was the responsibility and burden of the strong. It was a burden the others never really understood.

_Pray that you do not regret your choice._

"Thank you." She murmured softly. "But I made my choice long ago."

He sighed and before he could say anything else she left.

* * *

He walked about a little aimlessly, searching for nothing in particular.

When was the last time he'd been so idle?

He kept wandering down a few streets, finding himself treading familiar territory. Unpleasant memories began to flicker through him and he pressed his lips together.

He should be heading back now. Sophia should be done with the scarf. Mikasa should have been done with her stupid meeting.

He frowned at nothing in particular, recalling how the men had looked at Mikasa lecherously. She was beautiful, he knew, drawing attention even as she tried to be invisible. It had made his jaw clench, a distaste fill him bitterly. Mikasa had plenty of options for romance—Jean, Marlo, any one of those pigs that had eyed her, perhaps even Eren—

_And he shouldn't bloody care._

"It can't be…"

He turned to his left, narrowing his eyes into the dark, grimy alley, searching for the source of the voice. There was a small group of men huddled between the walls—seven, nine, no about twelve of them—and one man stepped towards him curiously.

"I remember you." The man murmured, his dirty face coming into view as he stepped into the fading sunlight. "They call you the strongest soldier, don't they…._Levi _is it now_?_"

His smirk was as filthy and haggard as his body and clothing. The rest of the men shifted forward, eyeing his pristine uniform covetously, enviously. Levi grimaced. He recognized this man from his past, a bitterness on his tongue.

_Claude. _

He wasn't an idiot. He knew their intentions were nothing but trouble and he wasn't at his best physical condition at the moment and he was without his gear. He could take down maybe a handful but not all of them—and if his memory served him correctly Claude had been one of the crueler thugs he'd known, his sadistic streak becoming well-known even when they'd been young men.

Levi had never liked Claude and Claude had known it. They'd gotten into a scuffle once with Levi as the victor—and Levi had joined the scouting legion before Claude had been able to enact his revenge.

It's funny how second chances were given to the undeserving.

Levi nodded carelessly. "Do they?" He murmured flippantly, leaning against the wall strategically. The buildings about them looked very dilapidated and abandoned. He looked to his left quickly. The townspeople were quite a ways down. Even if they did see a scuffle he doubted they'd come to his aid. "I never really paid much attention, between ripping the titans to shreds and helping run the recon corps, I've been kept quite busy."

Claude smiled, his mostly broken teeth presenting a gruesome sight. "Too busy to help out old friends?"

Levi couldn't help but focus on his black gummed smile. He shuddered a little in revulsion. "Much too busy."

Claude smirked. "I'll forgive you, if you cooperate." Claude looked over his shoulder at his comrades, nodding towards Levi. "Take everything he's got."

Levi gave one last hopeful look down the street and sighed.

He supposed he really didn't have much of a choice.

Before the black mouthed fiend could move away Levi kneed his abdomen viciously, grabbing Claude's oily hair in his fist and slamming his knee into his face. He dropped like a puppet cut from its strings—and it was like a reenactment of their younger days. Claude hadn't learned much, it seemed.

"Why don't you try to take it yourself?" He muttered, wiping his palms on his jacket reflexively.

The rest of the men surged on him and he punched and kicked swiftly, almost relishing the sounds of bones snapping, their cries of pain—but his body was stiff, protesting every movement. He delivered another rapid kick to man he'd dropped when he felt someone grab the back of his jacket and throw him backwards.

He grunted as he hit the ground, sliding into the middle of street. He felt a kick explode across his jaw, sending him rolling and he coughed on his own blood. They pounced on him before he could stand, gripping his wrists and pulling his arms up over his head. He struggled briefly but they restrained him quickly, forcing him up on his knees before them.

He swallowed a mouthful of blood, his stomach turning as he glowered up at the men. There were only four of them standing, holding him down. The rest were either unconscious or slowly, painfully getting to their feet.

One of the thugs gripped his hair in his grubby fist and arched his neck back. "Small son of a bitch." His rank breath wafted over his face, his eerie yellow-brown eyes scrutinizing him. "But you're pretty fast."

_Not fast enough. _

"On your feet."

They pulled him up—he hooked his boot behind his ankle and head butted his face, flipping the man onto his back.

They tackled him again, his cheek scraping against the dirt until he felt his skin tear.

"Really fast." The man muttered, pulling out a knife and pressing the dull blade against Levi's damp throat. His breath dusted against the ground. "Might want not want to make any sudden movements." He looked at the rest of the men. "Get his boots. Check his pockets. The jacket—we can get a good amount for it. Try not to tear anything."

He felt them tug his boots and jacket off, heard them murmur giddily when they found his pouch of coins.

"What about the shirt?"

The man flipped Levi onto his back. "It's a little torn and he got blood on it but it'll do."

They grabbed his wrist and pulled his arms out tightly, his grimy fingers working at the buttons clumsily. His face hovered over his, his nauseating breath suffocating him.

Levi scowled, flinching when they yanked the shirt off of him and pulled him onto his knees. He was left in his undershirt and pants, barefoot and beltless.

He never was one to display his vulnerability however. "You all smell like shit."

They kicked his ribs, and he grunted, hunching forward.

The thug wielding the knife laughed at him raucously, eyeing Levi's kneeling form appreciatively. "Do we kill you?" He tilted his head to the side. "Or do we send you back black and blue with your tail tucked between your legs?"

Levi spit blood. "Just bloody kill me. Spend my money on a few bars of soap. You'll do us all a favor by bathing. Your appearance alone is nauseating but your stench is eye watering."

The man flushed a mottled red color, his hygiene clearly a sore spot. "You've got quite a mouth on you, don't you?"

Levi was about to retort when the man suddenly dug his knife into the front of his under shirt, tearing it away violently. They all stared at his bare, bruised chest for several moments.

Levi arched a brow. "Impressed?"

They punched him, pain exploding across the left side of his face.

He hung his head, felt the warmth of blood fall from his split bottom lip. He saw the tip of the blade lightly trace the hard lines of his chest and stomach.

"We'll send you back." The man concluded, a darker note in his tone. "With a nice message carved into your chest."

Levi gritted his teeth and braced himself.

* * *

The elderly woman grasped the scarf with deft, scarred fingers, checking its dryness. She tugged it off the small wire out in the sunlight, stretching out the scarf to examine it critically. Repairing it had been relatively easy—it was the softness and color of the fabric that had made her charge Levi twice the usual price. Having sewed it up, washed it and refreshed its color it looked almost new. Still, anyone with a good enough eye could tell it was well-worn.

It was an old thing, but pretty and well-loved.

She recalled the way Levi had looked at it, with a mixture of regret and dismay. _It's for a comrade. This dingy thing…means the world to her._

She knew that look.

She glanced down the street again. It was past two hours now. Levi was usually very prompt—but she'd seen him walk down a street everyone here knew no one should.

She spotted the woman who'd accompanied Levi earlier, high on her horse, another horse tied to hers. But Levi wasn't with her. "Girl," She called and the woman's dark, bottomless eyes locked onto her with an eerie sereneness. "Levi paid for this."

She held out the folded scarf.

The dark-haired woman leapt off her horse and walked towards her, frowning. "Paid…?"

Sophia nodded. "To have it repaired. He muttered something about it being for a comrade. I assume that was you."

She took the scarf almost reverently. She splayed it between her hands, her pale fingers gripping it tightly, possessively.

"You may want to look for him." She sat back in her chair, searching for her needle to begin her next job. "He went down that way." She gestured down the street with a wrinkly, papery hand. "That isn't a good place for anyone to wander alone." She felt her hands tremble a little. "I've lost a few people to these streets."

The girl's eyes darkened dangerously. She stepped back, wrapping the scarf around her neck snugly. "Do you mind if I tie my horses here for a few minutes?"

"Not at all." Sophia murmured, watching her expression curiously. The girl was rather trusting. She could sell the horses for a small fortune.

"Thank you." Her tone was flat and empty as she handed her a generous amount of coins.

Sophia watched her walk away, her steps sure, her eyes scanning their surroundings swiftly, thoroughly. Something about her walk was predatory, clearing the crowds the instant she began walking.

Levi had been right to assume that the scarf had meant something to the girl; but he had failed to mention what he'd meant to her.

She'd seen that look before, too.

She thumbed the coins in her hand. She'd made quite a pretty amount today. She saw two shadowy figures walk towards her from the alleyway, holding a very familiar uniform in their hands, the stiching done by her own hand. One of the men held it out towards her.

"How much for this?" He asked her, his black eyes small and narrow.

Sophia sighed. She might as well make good use of her coin.

* * *

Levi was used to pain.

He'd been through much, much worse, physically and mentally. The blade scored down his chest a second time, and he gritted his teeth so hard he felt his jaw would snap.

"You've gotten awful quiet." Claude murmured smugly, examining the blood tipped blade idly. The attempt at intimidation was ruined, however, by the large bandage over his broken nose. "You still have your tongue, don't you?" He gripped Levi's jaw and lifted his face, pressing the tip of the blade against his mouth.

"Boss?"

Claude scowled, pulling away from Levi.

Levi slumped forward, the ropes still holding him off the ground. They'd done a number on him. He wasn't sure if he could stay conscious for much longer. Claude had only begun taunting Levi _after _he'd been tied up of course. Apparently, Claude _had_ learned a few things. Like how to have others fight his battles for him.

"What?"

"There's a girl coming down the street towards us." The other thug mumbled, gesturing to Levi. "She's got the same uniform as him." The look in his eye changed, and it made Levi's stomach twist in alarm. "She looks…different. I haven't seen people that look like her. I already sent the rest of them after her."

_Mikasa. _

Claude pocketed his knife and stood. He walked over to the small, half open window, shifting carefully to peer outside. He hummed in approval. "Is she your subordinate, Levi?" Claude grinned. "You lucky son of a bitch."

He needed to keep their focus on him. They'd sliced at him and given him a few punches and kicks but they'd do much, much worse to her.

But, Levi thought, he could recall how spectacularly Mikasa had flopped the rest of the soldiers around as if they'd been rag dolls. Most of them were still unconscious and hurt; she could probably take the rest if they didn't get the knife on her.

But there _was_ a knife.

And Mikasa was weaponless.

The men murmured quietly between themselves, and Levi grimaced. He knew it wasn't likely to work but he had to try something.

"You don't want to try anything with her." Levi spoke through the blood in his mouth. "She's a beast of a woman. She may be worse than me."

They looked at him skeptically, their backs facing the window when a shadow passed over it.

"I am."

Her voice.

They barely had enough time to see a limp male body flying towards the window pane. The body struck it and the window shattered, the men falling back and shielding their faces against the glittering shards.

She swung through the window like a storm, her boot connecting with Claude's face, snapping his head back violently. The other thug tried to kick her but she caught his boot in her hands, striking his ankle with her elbow and snapping it cleanly. Screaming in pain, he fell to the ground beneath her where she punched his throat swiftly.

Claude was still alive—miraculously—and surged up, brandishing his knife.

Levi pulled against the ropes. "Mikasa—"

She leapt back as he swung, the blade slicing her shirt, blood seeping through the white, spreading over her abdomen.

He swung again but she bared her teeth and caught his wrist, twisting him and kicking his legs out from under him. He hit the ground, groaning. Mikasa held his bloody knife in her hand, twirling it as she looked down at him like he was a roach she was contemplating stepping on. She placed her boot on his chest, pinning him to the ground like a worm.

She looked up at him now and Levi tried for nonchalance, a little impressed. Well, perhaps a little more than impressed. The bloody woman was a monster. "A little late, aren't you, Ackerman?"

Her eyes darkened as she scanned his bloody, tied body, her lips pressing together. There was something in her gaze he couldn't quite place, a dull pain of past memories. "Forgive me, Heichou."

"Fucking bitch." Claude gurgled idiotically, squirming beneath her futilely.

She straddled his chest, raising the knife.

He tried to punch her but she swatted his hand away easily, pinning his elbow with her knee, her other hand pressing the bloody knife to his mouth. "Quiet." She murmured, her voice deceivingly, hair-raisingly soft. "Or I'll make you swallow your own blade."

Claude went statue still. "Please."

"You can make him swallow the blade _after _you use it to cut me free, Ackerman. I rather enjoy the thought of him trying to shit _that _out." Levi watched the frighteningly blank expression masking her emotions, knew she'd almost be capable of coldly murdering him without batting an eye.

Somehow this made her all the more thrilling to him—the sense of danger that clung to her, the darkness that she hid so well. But he didn't want her to regret this for the rest of her life. He didn't want her to be any more like him than she already was.

"Ackerman." He called again and she only gripped the knife tighter.

"Mikasa." He tried, more gently. She looked at him, her dark and deeply troubled gaze tugging at him. "Cut me down."

Hesitantly, she nodded, looking a little dazed, as if waking from a dream. She stood, grabbing a coiled rope beside them. He was about to ask what the devil she was doing when she suddenly began deftly hog tying Claude.

Levi smirked at Claude's squawks, downright almost grinned when Mikasa flipped him over none too gently, tying the rope over his mouth. She searched his pockets, retrieving his coin pouch. She walked over to him now, reaching up to cut down his ropes. "You've lost a lot of blood, Heichou." She tip toed before him, neatly cutting the rope away from his chafed wrists. He slumped forward onto her heavily, his face burrowing into her shoulder. He inhaled her scent, all heat and female, blood, a lingering trace of soap and cigar smoke—from the military police, perhaps.

She stilled for a moment—then pulled his arm over her neck.

"You got the scarf." He murmured, the loss of blood making him feel a little light headed. He felt oddly disappointed. He'd wanted to see her expression when she first saw it.

She nodded. "Where are your clothes?"

He looked down at himself. Ah, yes, clothing. He was almost completely naked except for a pair of shorts. "I think they've sold them already."

He couldn't quite tell in the falling twilight, but it looked as if she was blushing. She leaned him against the wall and removed her jacket.

"Here" She pulled it over his shoulders. He slid his arms through the sleeves with a grimace, eyeing the men sprawled across the street randomly.

He was about to ask if she'd done this alone when two men suddenly lurched out from the shadows, slamming Mikasa and him against the wall. Mikasa was quick enough—and strong enough—to twist to face her assailant, head butting him viciously. He fell back and she was on him lightning quick, every punch swift, every movement lethal. But the man was a large, burly one, the size of Erwin, and muscled like him, too.

His fists were slow however, and Mikasa spun around him easily. Infuriated the man grasped the front of her shirt and lifted her off her feet with one hand, slamming her onto the ground harshly. Mikasa twisted beneath him, not in the least deterred, managing to wrap her leg around the man's face and prying him off of her with sheer strength.

The man pinning him tried to help his friend—but Levi took advantage of his turned back, wrapping his arm around the thug's throat and choking him out.

The man struggled against his hold vainly. Levi arched a brow, pressing into his windpipe more tightly. "Where the hell are my clothes you filthy rats?"

Not that he expected an answer—nor would he let him speak. He only tightened his hold until the man slid down, unconscious and boneless.

Levi leaned against the wall heavily—Mikasa was sprawled on the ground, breathing rapidly, her fight won.

"Oi, Mikasa." Levi called, making his way towards her. "Are you hurt?"

The beast of a man she'd been fighting looked rather worse for the wear, awkwardly slumped against the wall, his arm bent at an awkward angle—most definitely broken. Levi wasn't quite sure the man was alive.

He fell to his knees beside Mikasa, eyeing her. She looked a little winded, and there was still the large scratch across her abdomen but she looked relatively well.

"Are you alright?" He asked again.

She nodded breathlessly. "I'm fine."

He arched his brows, surveying the downed men again. He remembered his question. "Did you take them all down alone?"

She looked a little smug now. "They didn't suspect someone like me. I took them by surprise."

Levi eyed her beneath him, sweat glistening across her pale flushed skin prettily. Her scarf was draped away from her neck and across the dirt like a line of blood, the top buttons of her shirt torn off, exposing her throat, collarbones and top of her full chest. She was as beautiful as she was deadly.

He crouched over her. Of course they wouldn't have expected her; she'd taken him by surprise, also, hooking her claws into him before he'd even known she had any. No, Levi thought darkly, skimming his hand over her hip and up her waist, grasping the side of her ribs—he'd known how dangerous she was. He'd wanted her nonetheless. He wanted to sink his own claws within her, make her grit her teeth with desire like she did to him.

Perhaps it was the blood loss, or the relief of being saved, or perhaps the relief that she had returned and hadn't accepted any offers, that she hadn't allowed herself to be corrupted—or perhaps it was simply his own selfish need to take, to have her, to claim her after watching Jean, Marlo and every other man who'd laid eyes on her _want her_.

She looked up at him through half closed lids, her lips parted, her breathing slowing, deepening. He lowered his head slowly, letting his mouth hover over hers.

She shifted beneath him, her hands skimming restlessly over the ground. She shut her eyes expectantly, tilting her face up sweetly. He smirked a little, holding out, brushing his mouth over her lashes, her nose, the corners of her mouth. _Just a little longer, _he told himself, anticipation grinding hard on his bones. He kissed her upper lip, nudging, encouraging her to open her mouth a little more for him.

She parted her lips obediently, her fingers reaching up to grasp his bare, hard waist.

He clenched his hand into her hair, angled her head beneath his before finally locking his mouth over hers, drinking from her parted lips deeply. She inhaled sharply beneath him but he only held her still, hungrily tasting her, unmindful of her hesitance. He swept his tongue into her mouth over and over, searching her, savoring the feel of her open mouth, of her soft lips, of her tiny gasps.

Her fingers splayed over the muscles in his back, clutching at him as she finally, unsurely, moved her mouth against his. He hummed encouragingly, grasping both sides of her head firmly as he grinded his mouth lusciously over hers.

She was learning his kiss quickly, her tongue meeting the sweeps of his own tentatively at first, then more surely. She tasted of clean skin, of water and something else, something that drove him a little mad. He was both furious and relieved that he hadn't kissed her before; as it was he wasn't sure if he could stop. She kept moving beneath him, arching, making little soft sounds that he swallowed greedily. His teeth caught at her bottom lip impatiently as his fingers flicked the buttons of her shirt open deftly. He slid his hand beneath her shirt, placing his damp palm over her racing heart, sliding lower, murmuring soothingly when she stiffened. He slowed the kiss by sheer will, pulling his baser urges back ruthlessly. "Relax," He murmured against her mouth, parting her shirt slowly.

She raked her nails down his back lightly and he felt his breath catch in his throat—when he dully realized they were both still bleeding and in the middle of the street, surrounded by beaten thugs who could wake at any moment. He could take her here, wanted to, badly—but he knew better.

He tore his mouth away reluctantly, his harsh breaths mingling with hers. "Not here." He bit out, clenching his jaw, his fingers curling in her shirt tightly, keeping her tempting flesh out of his sight. "Not like this." He pressed his lips to her throat, tried to cool his blood.

Couldn't.

He kissed her again, hard, briefly.

She broke away. "Like this?"

He smiled at her darkly, brushing her hair away from her face, his fingers slipping into her silky black hair. "I told you, didn't I?" He rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb. "I want to learn you." Her lips parted and he pressed in a little deeper. "Slowly." He brushed his fingertips over the seam of her lips. "Thoroughly." He looked about them pointedly, grudgingly. "And privately." He peeled himself off of her. The things he wanted to do to her needed to wait until they were behind locked doors. And perhaps after they'd bathed.

She gathered her wits a little more slowly, sitting up and grimacing, her hand touching her cut stomach tentatively.

She rose to her feet and helped him up onto his, her gaze latching everywhere but onto him, her bush fierce. She buttoned her shirt up—or whatever buttons she had left, the blouse exposing most of her chest and stomach. "The horses…I left them just around here." Awkwardly, she pulled his arm back around her neck.

He smirked a little—then paused when he heard a quiet groan emit from the beast of a man Mikasa had fought with only moments ago. He was alive afterall.

They both glanced about them as they saw a few of the men begin to shift wearily.

_Shit. _

"I'll knock them all—" Mikasa moved forward purposefully but Levi snatched her wrist, yanking her back.

"I appreciate and admire your bloodlust, Ackerman but no. We're leaving. There is someone I think we may be able to stay with for tonight."

He pulled them forward as quickly as he could. He was sure Sophia would sell her soul if it was for the right price—a room shouldn't be asking much.

"Move, Ackerman."

She clenched her jaw and obeyed stiffly, helping him along the street and scurrying around the corner. There were several gasps and yelps from the townspeople, gawking at his state of undress, most leaping away and making way for them. He sent a pointed glare at anyone who kept looking at Mikasa's mostly open shirt, almost felt like giving her back her jacket to cover her up.

They reached Sophia's door and he paused. "We're going to stay here for the night."

Mikasa looked hesitant. "You can stay here while I go to the military police to report—"

He cupped her jaw, silencing her. "No. By this time they're all probably shot in the neck drunk, anyway. We'll stay here. Understand?"

She jerked away from his hand. "Yes, Heichou." She was all ire now and he couldn't help but sigh.

Just moments ago she'd been all liquid heat beneath him. He moved to push the door open when she snatched his wrist.

"Heichou…" She seemed to struggle with herself. "We can't both stay here tonight."

He arched a brow. "Why is that?"

"What just happened now…"

Levi pondered for several moments. He sometimes seemed to forget how much more innocent and naïve Mikasa was, how something like this might confuse her. She'd never had a romantic relationship, had she? She was a reserved woman and emotions like desire might unnerve her. She was accustomed to pushing her body ruthlessly, brutally, putting it through pain—but had she ever sought pleasure?

"Mikasa," He murmured, gently, catching her gaze. "I wanted to kiss you, so I did. It could mean something more if you wish or it could mean nothing at all if you'd like. I want you and I've wanted you for quite some time now. Whether you want to take it further is entirely up to you." He traced his fingertips down her exposed throat. "I can make you feel good." He felt her soften beneath his touch. "I want to feel every inch of you. I want you to feel me." Her lips were already parting for him but he bit back, clenching his jaw. "Whether you can ignore everything and everyone, whatever everyone else might think, is up to you and you alone. As long as you're sure you won't regret your choice."

He pulled away.

"But for tonight we're staying here."

He shoved the door open without knocking and pulled Mikasa in behind him. It'd been a while since he'd had a woman in his bed—at least not without the full intention of having her.

They stumbled in and Sophia looked unperturbed as ever, sewing a white shirt as she sat perched on her stool. She glanced at them briefly.

"I gave the horse's food and water." She mumbled. "That'll cost you." She kept sewing as she spoke. "I bought back your uniform, Levi, from those thugs that I presume did…" She waved at their bloody bodies. "_That _to you. They were filthy and torn in some places so I washed them and I'm sewing them as I speak. The jacket and pants are still damp so you'll have to wait until morning."

Levi narrowed his eyes, saw that she was sewing buttons into his white shirt.

"That will also cost you." She finished sewing up the last button and tied the string, cutting it neatly. "I've put bandages and a few ointments in the bathroom because I am assuming you both will be taking baths—and that will also be added to your bill."

Levi pulled his coin pouch out of Mikasa's pocket and handed her a handful of coins with a grimace. "I'm not quite sure you didn't plan all of this, hag."

Sophia only giggled happily as she smoothed her old fingers over the shiny metal pieces. "I've prepared a room for you—I've only one to spare and I'm going to assume you two won't mind sleeping in the same bed together, unless of course one of you wishes to sleep with me, eh, Levi?—so you two are welcome to stay the night here." Her small grin was conniving. "And _that _will cost you quite a bit more."

Levi gave up, tossing the entire bag onto the table. "Is that enough?" He pulled away from Mikasa to hobble down the small hall. He pulled off her jacket and tossed it at Sophia. "Wash that while you're at it and I expect a damn good meal in the morning."

* * *

It was minutes later that Levi sunk into the steaming water with a muffled groan, leaning his head back against the copper rim of the tub. It stung like hell, his entire body screaming in protest—but it was also a relief. He refused to get into bed bloody and grimy, especially if Mikasa was going to be beside him.

He felt terribly exhausted and weak.

He shut his eyes and breathed deeply. He just needed to gather his strength for a few moments.

He never noticed when he fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N- The last little bit was a bit of a preview for the next chapter. You can imagine who is going to have to get him out of the tub. Sophia is an old woman, after all. **

**I'm sorry for taking so long. Forgive me? I'll try to keep updating every week. ****Thank you, thank you, _thank you _for each and every single review and favorite and follow. I took every one of them to heart. **

**I love building tension. Have I mentioned that?**

**I'll try to bring in the rest of the crew (is that okay?) next chapter, meaning Eren, Armin, Sasha and so forth. **

**Also, one last question for you lovely people since it's been brought up a few times by you all...what's everyone's opinion on things getting a bit more...heated? Explicitly, so. Let me know. Your opinions are important to me. **

**You're lovely. **


	5. Unspoken

Mikasa clenched her jaw tightly, gripping the edges of the wooden table beneath her with white fingers. Sophia hummed as she hovered over her, her needle threading Mikasa's torn flesh neatly. It was a strange thing, Mikasa thought; she could take punches and kicks rather well, even a broken bone or two, but this slow, constant cutting into her flesh had her sweating and trembling.

Sophia peered at Mikasa's features curiously. "Not a peep out of you." She observed, sounding almost impressed. "A strong girl." She patted her stomach sympathetically, pausing as she observed the hard, defined lines of her abdomen. "A very strong girl."

Mikasa only pressed her lips together tightly as Sophia continued sewing.

"Levi has been in there an awful long time." Sophia murmured softly, her eyes steady on her work. "Perhaps you should go check on him." She finished her stitching, placing the thread and needle aside.

Mikasa shook her head, inhaling shakily, relief making her muscles go lax. "He likes being clean…thoroughly, so." She sat up gingerly, a little weakly.

Sophia chuckled, her small blue eyes twinkling in amusement. "I know that. But he had a lot of blood on him. We should have just cleaned his wounds, wrapped him up and put him to bed. Taking a bath in that condition will only make him worse."

Mikasa pulled on her shirt. "He's fine, I'm sure." The thought of barging in on a wet and naked Levi made her face flush heatedly. She pulled on her scarf and drew it over her nose soothingly, looking down the hall worriedly. She was sure he was fine...wasn't he?

Sophia watched her with perceptive eyes. "Sure enough that you're willing to risk him bleeding to death in a tub because you were too skittish to look at a naked man?"

Mikasa's blush intensified, her fingers tightening around the red cloth, the soft material muffling her words. "I've seen a naked man before."

Sophia's brows rose skeptically. "Your father or brother doesn't quite count, now."

Mikasa looked away uncomfortably. She supposed seeing Eren and Armin naked when they were children really _didn't_ count. But she'd also seen them without their clothing as adults, assisting the medics with bathing and dressing them when they'd been too injured to do it themselves. She'd been a little embarrassed but she hadn't really batted an eye at it—so why should it be any different now?

She pushed off the table, brushing aside her hesitation. "I'll...knock."

Sophia nodded, perching back atop her stool. "Bring me your clothes after you bathe. The bandages and ointments are in the small chest in the bath room. There are a change of clothes in the drawers, for both of you. The towels are folded atop the bed. I'll take you both something to eat before you go to bed."

Mikasa nodded and walked down the hall, ignoring her nervousness. She entered the bedroom and grabbed two towels as pretext in the case that he was fine, and held them close to her chest as she faced the door. She tried to listen for any movement through the thick wood but heard nothing. Clearing her throat, she knocked on the door twice. "Heichou?"

No response.

She called out a bit more clearly this time, alarm beginning to rise within her. "Levi Heichou?"

Not a sound.

She tugged at her scarf, took a deep breath and twisted the door open a crack, knocking once more in a last warning. "Heichou, are you…?" She trailed off as she spotted the top of his head against the edge of the tub. "Levi…?"

She stepped in and shut the door behind her. He wasn't responding, looked almost as if he was sleeping—his eyes were shut, the water blanketing over his lips, slinking dangerously close to his nose.

The water was very, very red.

She moved forward instantly, tossing the towels onto the long wooden bench across the room. _He fainted. _Pushing up her sleeves, she bent down and hooked her hands beneath his arms, pulling him out of the water. She struggled a little, leaning his limp body against her chest. Her entire front and side was drenched instantly, her wet boots squeaking as she widened her stance over the floor. He was surprisingly heavy, but she lifted him quickly nonetheless, dragging him towards the long wooden bench against the wall. She placed him on his back, grabbing a towel to place across his hips modestly.

She pushed his wet hair away from his face, checking his pulse, his breathing. She grabbed the other towel and began drying his beaten body as quickly as she could, her eyes darkening as she saw the long cruel slices over his bruised, muscled chest, the towel growing heavy from blood and water.

Even his arms looked in bad shape, his skin a mottled purple red color from when he'd shielded her from the fall.

She should have gotten there sooner.

She pulled her scarf off and folded it beneath his damp head, pushing back the hair that clung to his damp forehead, her fingers tangling in the wet strands. She pulled away, reaching for the large chest in the corner of the room. She yanked on it, finding it surprisingly heavy as she dragged it towards the bench, gritting her teeth when her wet soles slicked over the floor.

She heaved it open quickly, grabbing several rolls of bandages and balms, kneeling beside him, trying to calm her movements. She placed them on the floor beside her, then began smoothing her salve laced fingertips over his wounds. He stirred slightly as she worked over him quickly and gently, his lashes fluttering as a soft groan twisted in his throat.

He looked up at her dully, a frown creasing his brow. "Mikasa…?"

She breathed deeply, her shakiness slipping away, leaving her feeling more than a little weak. A warmth spread through her as she watched his eyes slit open, his pulse hammering, his chest heaving. "Yes."

His expression softened, almost looking relieved that it was indeed her tending over him.

Relief, she thought suddenly. That was what she was feeling. Relief that he was stirring, that he was conscious. Alive. Her eyes wandered back towards his, straightening herself on her knees to lean over him. She eyed the ugly split on his bottom lip and smoothed ointment over it, felt the warmth of his breath brush the tips of her fingers. "You fainted, Heichou. You've lost a lot of blood."

His hand caught her wrist as she tried to move it away, but his grip was weak, her fingertips brushing his jaw as he pulled her hand closer. "I fainted…?" He still looked a little hazed, his grip gentling, touching his forehead to her wet palm, as if seeking comfort.

She nodded, her insides tangling as his cut mouth brushed against the inside of her wrist, twisting her hand out of his grip. "In the tub."

He shut his eyes, his breath shuddering out of his chest as he threw his arm over his eyes. He seemed to gather his composure with a frown and a few tangled breaths. "I'm fine."

She almost smiled. As mulish as ever.

She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, pushing aside her hair. Yes, they could both be very mulish and distant. But they were also very breakable. She stood, ignoring the shakiness of her legs. "Can you sit up?"

He moved his arm away, the look in his stormy blue eyes grim and reluctant.

She nodded, understanding his unspoken answer. She heaved him up, gentled when he gave a muffled curse, leaning him against the wall. The towel had almost slid off his narrow hips, and she kept her gaze up as she dragged it back into place.

"Deadly but prudish," Levi muttered, amusement curling richly into his voice, his enjoyment of her squeamishness almost palpable. "Aren't you?"

She ignored him, had half a mind to leave him sitting there for the night as she kneeled before him again. "Stay still." She deftly began wrapping the bandages around his hard abdomen and ribs, slowly working up over his chest. He shut his eyes and let his head loll back weakly, exposed and helpless before her. It was strange, she mused, to see such a usually strong and distant man so weak and defenseless before her, to touch him intimately, to have such broken power beneath her pale hands. Strange but not at all unpleasant; she almost found his vulnerability enchanting.

It was just the novelty, she told herself. Like a stray dog that otherwise would never let anyone touch it; a stray dog that would very easily bite the hand that fed it. That's all it was.

He hissed a little when she wrapped the bandages over the harsh slivers on his upper chest, his strong throat working silently, swallowing any more sounds. She finished wrapping his middle, then tentatively began to wrap his bruised arms.

"My arms don't need bandaging, Mikasa." He shut his eyes. "Leave enough bandages for your own wounds."

She kept wrapping. "I could wrap you from head to foot, Heichou, and still have enough left over for myself." Yes, she could deliver her own barbs.

He opened one eye in warning.

She pressed her lips together, ignoring his glower.

He wasn't a very large man, she admitted, but neither was he a particularly_ slight _one. His neck and chest were thick, his body well-muscled, the harsh lines of brutal physical training starkly apparent. She'd never really seen him train, but knew that he must do so daily for his body to be kept this ruthlessly fit. No, she mused. She couldn't quite deem him small. He shifted slightly as she finished.

"I haven't fainted since I was a child." He admitted quietly, his eyes still shut.

She eyed the scratches on his cheek and grabbed the ointment again, hiding her surprise at the confession. "I can't picture you as a child." She smoothed the balm over the thin scrapes carefully.

He hummed, his lashes lifting slightly as she kneeled again to wrap up the gash on his thigh. "I was a horrible one." His eyes flickered inquisitively, the look he gave her piercing and intimate. "I'd never thought you could be so gentle." His voice was rough, deeper than usual.

She felt heat bloom across her cheekbones. "You're hurt."

She kept her gaze averted, but could feel the heat of his focus on her like a flame. "He cut you."

She looked up at him, a little perplexed by the gruffness of his voice. "It's just a scratch." She looked away again, clenching her hands as she spoke through the tightness of her throat. "I've had worse." The sight of him tied and bleeding had gutted her, reminding her of a time when she'd been in the same position, of how cold and hopeless her entire world had been. But it was different, she'd thought—she wasn't a child, nor was she helpless—but for a few blank, white-hot moments it hadn't been different at all.

She'd been sucked into being that small girl again with a short knife as her only weapon, and the only thing in her mind had been to puncture it through the thug's soft, black heart. She should have, she thought in a sudden icy fury. Men like him were no great loss, were they? But she'd let him live; and that meant they'd survive to do much worse to much more helpless people.

Why had she let them live?

"Mikasa." Levi called and she looked up at him a little blankly. "Are you alright?"

She nodded numbly. "Yes, Heichou."

His hand cradled her jaw, lifting her face up gently, the tenderness of the touch momentarily disarming her. How could a person switch from being cut and dry to soft and gentle so quickly? It left her a little more than bewildered; it left her endlessly spellbound.

"What were you thinking just now?" He pressed again, his fingers clutching her jaw tightly in urging.

His face was inches from hers, and she was suddenly very aware of the state of his undress, and of how she was kneeling before him, his legs pressed against her stomach. She allowed herself to observe him and drink in his appearance, tried to memorize what he looked like when he was weak and bare. His skin was damp, gleaming against the low light, his dripping hair messily framing his eyes and temples, his lashes dusted with water drops.

She knew nothing of this man—knew nothing of his past or his ambitions or his true intentions. But there was the quietest of murmurs in the back of her mind, a voice that told her she very much wanted to learn him, too.

_"I wanted to kiss you, so I did. It could mean something more if you wish or it could mean nothing at all if you'd like. I want you and I've wanted you for quite some time now."_

Only he'd be so blunt, she thought, gripping the towel over his lap with hooked fingers—but while he had been open about his thoughts she still couldn't quite understand what he'd meant.

"_Whether you can ignore everything and everyone, whatever everyone else might think, is up to you and you alone. As long as you're sure you won't regret your choice."_

Those words could mean a multitude of things—or it could mean just one. He either wanted to have an exclusive relationship with her, publicly, or he simply wanted to have her sexually, privately, temporarily. Or, she assumed so. She didn't have much experience with these romantic endeavors but neither was she a naïve fool—she'd heard enough talk from both her male and female comrades to know that love of a romantic nature almost always meant sex, but sex didn't always mean love.

They didn't love each other, that much was true.

And she didn't know what to think.

"Oi, Mikasa." He called and she blinked, returning to the present. He looked a little irritated and a little concerned, and she breathed deeply.

"I'm fine, Heichou."

He narrowed his eyes. "Don't act stupid." He shifted forward, returning to his usual arrogance despite only having a small towel to keep him decent. "Don't play coy." He pulled back and examined her critically. "Are you unwell? Did you sustain any other injuries?"

She grasped his wrist when he moved to lift her shirt, the sewn cut only half exposed to his gaze. No, she didn't know what to think—but she knew what she _felt. _He'd been honest with her, hadn't he? She was no coward.

She kept his wrist in her hand as she spoke, her tongue thick. "I don't know what to do about what I feel for you."

He went very still. He seemed to choose his words oddly carefully, for a man who usually could care less about what he said. "You could do what you'd like, Mikasa." She was pulled into his gaze. "Even if it's doing nothing at all." Slowly, he turned his hand in her grip, grasping both her wrists. "Up." He ordered, his voice hard.

Had she said something to displease him?

She obeyed, unsteadily clambering to her feet before him. "We'll talk about this later." He lifted her shirt, examining the large slash across her hard abdomen. She saw the corners of his eyes tighten with strain, his lips pressing into a thin line of displeasure. He touched her wound gently and she inhaled sharply—not quite from pain. "We need to treat your wounds also."

She pulled away from his touch, feeling foolish for being so sensitive to it, puzzled by the way it had made her skin thrum vibrantly. "My wounds have already been treated, Heichou."

Before he could protest she pulled his arm over her neck and helped him to his feet, flushing as he adjusted the flimsy towel around his hips, tried not to focus on the exposed lines of his narrow hips, of all the scars marring his body. They made their way down the hall and into the bedroom where she sat him on the edge of the bed. She searched the drawers for a change of clothes and handed him his clothing.

"I need to bathe myself now. Good night, Heichou." She opened the door.

"Mikasa," His words made her pause mid-step. "I said we'd talk about it." He didn't look at her. "I'm too light headed to think clearly at the moment. But we _will _talk about what happened." He looked at her now, his gaze like steel. "Don't take long."

Stiffly, she nodded, ignoring the knot of apprehension in her chest as she shut the door behind her.

* * *

Levi had almost drifted off by the time she stepped back into the bedroom. She was carrying a multitude of sheets and blankets, wearing a thin white night gown, her pale legs exposed prettily. He sat up, the sheet falling away—and she blushed at the sight of his bare chest, looking at the walls, the floor, anywhere but him.

"Did you need a shirt, heichou?"

He arched a brow, tried to wipe away the grogginess as he pressed his fingertips to his eyelids. "No." He pushed the blanket away, and she looked relived to see he was wearing pants. He frowned at the billow of material spilling over her arms. "Why are you carrying so many bloody blankets?"

She gathered her composure, her eyes on the floorboards. "The floor is hard."

He narrowed his eyes. "It's a good thing we're sleeping on the bed, then."

He'd hit the mark. She shifted, looking towards the window, the moonlight creeping across the floor, illuminating the hem of her nightgown, silhouetting her shape. "Heichou…"

"Ackerman," He bit out, glaring now, trying to focus. "Get into the bed. Or are you going to force a wounded man to throw you onto it?"

She snared his gaze now, and he saw that hardness return, preferred it immensely over her insecurity. "You can barely sit up in your condition, heichou." Her voice was eerily quiet, the same tone she'd used when she'd savagely beaten Claude and his men. "If you tried to fight me, I'd be the one throwing you down."

Levi held her gaze in challenge. Out of all the women he could have been attracted to it had to be the one who probably could drop him flat on his ass if he ever let his guard down. Perhaps that was why he wanted her. "Then I'll sleep on the bloody floor." He grunted a little as he tried to stand.

"Heichou—don't."

He moved forward—she dropped the blankets and moved to stand in front of him, her cold hands pushing against his bare shoulders. "Don't." She repeated again, and the shake in her voice made him pause. He looked up at her, eyeing the small pearly buttons that ran along the front of her night gown, the pretty lines of her collarbones, the elegant arch of her neck. He watched her throat work as she spoke. "You've…you've been hurt enough for my sake. The least I can do is sleep on the floor."

_For my sake._

He understood now. "You're blaming yourself." He sighed, grasping her thin wrists. "You're being an idiot." He clutched both her wrists in one fist, imprisoning them tightly, hooking his leg behind her ankles, his other arm quickly shoving her backwards, twisting her.

She made a strangled sound of protest as her back hit the bed, struggling briefly until he straddled her. "Stop moving, Mikasa." He snapped, dragging her up so that her legs no longer dangled off the bed—she pushed at his elbows, at his jaw. "I said stop bloody moving." He pinned her wrists down beside her head, glaring at her as he gritted his teeth against the pain that shot through his ribs. "Stay. Still."

She obeyed.

"Good girl." He said flippantly, moving down her body, straddling her knees. Perhaps this wasn't the best position for his sake, but if it helped her relax he supposed he'd risk it. "Now, unbutton your gown."

She stiffened beneath him, her nails digging into his bandages, that all too familiar dead look glazing her eyes.

He shook his head, reaching out to grab a small jar of balm, showing her what he intended. He could almost see the unspoken _'oh' _in the slight parting of her lips. "Sophia stitched you up but this will help you heal better. Now unbutton it—or do I have to do that for you, too?"

She turned away, the moonlight casting over her lovely features, her damp hair looking like black silk ribbons strewn over snow colored sheets. "I…I'm not wearing anything beneath it."

He went still. It wasn't a very good combination, Levi knew; he had her beneath him and on a bed, her lush, pale body was only covered in a very thin, very accessible night gown. He'd already kissed her, had already discovered the taste of her mouth, felt the fire that she hid so well, the one he'd stoked within her. It would be easy to taste her mouth again. It would be easy to slide the gown up and expose her to his gaze, to part her thighs. It would be easy to take her here. Just a few tugs and a murmur, a quick touch, one that'd make her mind go blank, and he could almost feel her surrounding him.

Almost.

She looked at him a little anxiously, then looked away, trying to feign her usual indifference. Her pulse thrashed at the base of her throat.

He wanted her. But she wasn't ready. Their bodies were much too battered, and taking one another would probably give them equal amounts of pain and pleasure.

And when he took her, she _would_ be ready. It would be pure, undiluted pleasure coursing through their blood.

She'd want it as much as he did.

He forced himself to breathe in deeply, evenly. He shifted down and brought the blanket up over her hips modestly. "Lift your gown, just until I can treat your wound."

She seemed to struggle with her decision for several moments, her blush intensifying.

"You really are rather prudish, aren't you?" He taunted strategically.

She pressed her lips into a thin line as she tugged at her gown roughly—flinching when she scratched at her own wound.

He shook his head. "You can't obey a single order." He slid his hands to her hips beneath the blanket, gripping the soft white cotton tightly. He felt his pulse jump for a much different reason, his voice coarsening as he spoke. "Lift your hips."

Slowly, hesitantly, she did.

He tugged the gown up, over her thighs, past the swell of her hips, exposing her pale stomach. He marveled for a moment, enthralled with the softness of her skin brushing against his knuckles, with the small silvery veins of past wounds decorating her flesh. The hard edge of his desire dampened when he saw the large slice across her ivory skin, the wound an angry, flushed red color. He touched the skin around it, found it a bit hot to the touch. "Does it bother you?"

She shook her head, shutting her eyes, chills spreading across her flesh. "It's just a scratch."

He twisted the small jar open. "Of course it is." He dabbed his fingertip lightly. "They were filthy. They looked as if they hadn't bathed in ages—do you think they ever cleaned their knives? Gods know what kind of filth you could have had crawling within your skin."

They quieted as he gently smoothed the ointment over her cut skin, the silence punctuated by the sound of their breathing, by the small creaks of the bed when she shifted.

He didn't hurry—touched her carefully, leisurely, finding his ministrations oddly relaxing. He found smaller scratches all over her skin, perhaps from the branches, perhaps from the shattering glass, recalled how deadly and stunning she'd looked as she'd fought. He touched a small cut on her temple, crouching over her, his hair falling forward.

"They were old acquaintances of mine—Claude, and his gang." He murmured, putting the ointment aside. He saw her eyes flicker over his features, wondered what she thought. "I wasn't always a member of the scouting legion." He felt his gaze become unfocused, his hands clutched into the sheets beside her head. "Back then I was something much more distasteful." _Something like the men who slaughtered your mother and father and almost sold you to men who'd do unspeakable things. _"I suppose I had that coming. You shouldn't have been dragged into it, but you did perhaps give them what _they _had coming." He became silent again, some unspoken emotion deepening his frown, bitterness, disappointment perhaps, he could care less.

"You can't…expect to be surrounded by filth and stay clean." She looked away, her breath tickling his knuckles against the pillow. "It's the way this world works. Sometimes you have to spill blood before they spill yours. We're alive because of it." She shut her eyes.

He recalled the reports, the words thrown in the court room. They'd been children, hadn't they? Murdering—three? four?—men to live, to escape. He could understand that very, very well.

There was a lack of regret within him, an emotion that perhaps belonged to those who had kept their souls intact, who had souls at all. No, he didn't regret murdering the people they had—if he hadn't, he wouldn't be here now, would he? It was small, the number of lives he'd saved, insignificant against the ones lost daily, against the ones he'd taken himself. There had been many nights when his comrades had thanked him, groveled at his feet in gratefulness because his blades had cut before their teeth could, and weeks later they'd be dead anyway.

He'd begun to wonder if saving them mattered. What did it really, if they'd only die on the next mission? What did cutting the back of titans necks matter if the bodies were chewed and broken within their throats?

But he'd saved her, hadn't he? And as he held her beneath him, felt her warmth, her softness, felt her breath, he felt the unspoken answer in the stutter of his pulse, in the way his hands ached to touch her, the way his eyes traced her constantly; saving _her _had mattered. The thought of not having her, alive, seemed so very unspeakable.

"Eren saved me." She suddenly murmured, shifting beneath him, her lashes lowered. "If he hadn't murdered those men to save me… I wouldn't have been alive to save him back." She looked up now, and there was something in her gaze that stung him, that felt like ice. Perhaps it was an admiration, a look akin to the ones his comrades had given him when they'd thanked him, a gratefulness that almost seemed to horrify him. "If you hadn't murdered the men who tried to kill you…if you hadn't survived…then you wouldn't have been alive to save Eren." She looked down again. "To save me."

If it had been another man, perhaps these words would stroke his ego. But to him they were only snakes curling between them, a curse, the last warning, a last thank you before they were ripped away. _Where did your thanks get you_? It was a question that always bubbled up after every disastrous mission, watching them gather whatever was left of their bodies, shredded pieces of someone's scalp, a large lump of pink and red that was perhaps a chewed torso, a thigh and knee dangling from a cable. _I just postponed your death. It was just for a little while. _

"Don't thank me for saving anyone. For saving _you_." He felt himself shutting away, locks turning, cogs rolling backwards, his lungs tight. "What does it matter in the long run if I only give you a few more weeks of life?"

He moved away—and this time _she_ held onto _him,_ her palm pressing against his cheek, making him still at the tenderness of the touch. "The world is a cruel one, Levi…"

_Levi? _

"But it can give us moments of beauty, also." Her fingernails scratched the hard line of his jaw lightly, scraped down his throat, touched the beating pulse at the bottom.

Moments of beauty, he thought, the moonlight encasing them both, leeching everything of color. When was the last time he'd had a moment of beauty? When was the last time he'd been shown any mercy?

"Moments of beauty…" He spoke softly, almost tauntingly. "Where do you find them, Mikasa? Perhaps because you still have _family_ with you—you still have a bit of warmth to keep the ice out of your heart." He traced her cheekbones. "You see I find that rather difficult when I've never really had one. It's rather impossible when almost everyone I've ever known…" He touched her throat. "Anyone I've ever touched…is dead. I've been ice from the start." He pulled away now, the almost pity swirling in her gaze sickening him.

"Wait." She breathed, her fingers knotting in the back of his hair. "Levi…"

_Levi_, he mused again, his name sounding odd on her tongue.

"You're not sleeping on the bloody floor—"

She lifted her head, touching her lips to his, her breath pushing between his lips. She moved her soft mouth gently, taking care not to further split the wound on his bottom lip, the tip of her tongue tracing around it lightly. He shuddered a little, sliding his palm beneath her head, tangling his callused fingers in her wet hair, deepening the kiss slowly. He let _her_ kiss _him_, held back his own wants and let her learn, the movements of her mouth tentative, curious. Her breaths were shaky, her fingers sliding over his bandaged chest, her nails scratching at his scalp in supplication, begging him to kiss her back.

His restraint broke a little, his body tightening as he pushed away the cumbersome blanket, letting her wrap her thighs around his waist. He inhaled sharply—she swallowed the sound, her fingers wound tightly in his hair, her knees gripping his hips, pressing herself against him. She arched beneath him, ripping away the chains he'd slaked over himself, making their kiss quicken, the taste of her mouth making him shake. He let his hands rove over her, snake beneath her body, tugging up the gown, his hands grasping at the sides of her ribs, sliding higher. She nicked the cut on his bottom lip, and he hissed, his heart pounding when she drew it into her mouth, sucking at it, the iron taste of blood lingering on her tongue.

He slid his hand between their bodies, smoothing it over her belly, taking care not to hurt her, slid it lower still.

"_For my sake."_

"_To save me." _

He didn't really understand why she was kissing him, why she was wrapped around him, her hesitation gone—perhaps it was guilt, or gratitude or a poisonous mixture of the two. If he'd been a good man he'd make sure it wasn't. He'd make sure it wasn't that at all.

But he was far, far from being a good man. He was the worst kind.

She made a soft sound in her throat as his hand crept closer still—his name, he realized, and she whispered it again. He breathed in, hushing her, finally touching her, rasping her with his callused fingertips lightly, his name strangling in her throat, surprise, a plea—

There was a sharp knock on the door—Levi broke the kiss, ripping the blanket up and shielding Mikasa as the door was shoved open. Sophia was at the doorway, her silver brows rising to her hairline when she spotted their flushed faces, their breathlessness, the way Levi straddled her.

"My, my," She muttered, shakily carrying a small tray with two steaming bowls atop, entering the room without a shred of remorse. "I never thought being robbed and beaten would get your passion all worked up, Levi."

Levi scowled at her—cursed and flinched when Mikasa shoved him off of her, his ribs screaming in protest as he was flipped onto his back. She sat at the edge of the bed, tugging her gown down, a fierce blush blooming across her cheeks. "We were—"

Sophia smiled at her. "I know, dear. An old woman must have her fun when she can. Here, I brought you some food."

Levi sat up, accepting his bowl irritably, glaring at Sophia darkly, trying to clear his head, trying to untangle his hazy thoughts.

Sophia handed Mikasa her bowl. "Face the wall, dear. Eat before it gets cold."

Mikasa obeyed quietly, holding the bowl in her lap, shutting her eyes, her hands trembling slightly. She refused to look at him. Sophia grabbed a small comb, running it through the tangles in Mikasa's still damp hair. "You have lovely hair." Sophia's smile was tender, her gaze almost wistful. "Black as night. You're a pretty girl. You remind me of my daughter. She was the spitting image of her father. You have their mannerisms. Silent and distant—but kind."

Mikasa put down her spoon, looking down at her hands modestly. She inhaled slowly, her composure gathered, the color slowly leeching away from her cheeks. "Thank you."

Sophia tugged a small ribbon out of her dress pocket. "Here you go." She tied her hair up deftly as Mikasa ate, and Levi was momentarily riveted by the way it exposed the arch of her neck, her ears, displayed her jawline.

It made her look much more womanly.

He pushed the thought away, watching the way Sophia patted Mikasa's head in a motherly fashion. "Get some rest. Don't let Levi take advantage of the fright you've gone through today."

When the devil did Sophia become so concerned and caring? Levi put down his bowl, turning over and lying on his side with a grimace.

_The fright you've gone through today. _

He wondered if she'd say the same thing if she knew Mikasa had taken them all down without batting an eye. _They_ were the ones who'd gone through the fright.

He didn't bother pulling the blanket over himself, feeling uncomfortably warm, muttering a curse when another stab of pain shot up his side as he rolled onto his stomach.

"What's the matter, Levi?" Sophia teased, her usual bite returning. "Want Sophia to comb your hair, too?"

Levi didn't bother turning around. "Keep your filthy comb away, old coot."

She chuckled her abrasive laugh. "Really, girl, how do you stand him?"

Levi's patience for the day—for the entire bloody month—sapped away, and he rolled over, giving Sophia the blackest glare he could. "Are you done, Sophia?" He cut out, all temper. "We need to rest. As you've seen we've had _quite _an eventful day. Get the hell out. Doesn't seem like much to ask you to stay out of the room we _paid _for."

Sophia grinned as she pulled away from Mikasa. "Someone didn't get their sweets today." Sophia hobbled over to the door. "You might want to hold off on getting them tonight for the sake of your bodies."

Mikasa blushed again, pushing a pillow onto the ground. "I'll sleep on the floor."

"Like hell." Levi bit out, glaring at Sophia's back as she left them. "You're sleeping on the bed. Stop acting so prudish. You weren't so reserved a few moments ago, were you?"

The words seemed to strike the wrong chord, her back stiffening. Very quietly, Mikasa spoke, looking at him over her shoulder, ice in her gaze and words. "I'd rather sleep outside, heichou, than sleep in the same bed with you."

"Too damn bad. Go to sleep."

She pushed off the bed—he grabbed her wrists, pulling her forward—she pressed her palm flat against his bandaged chest, struggled to keep her body off the bed, her knees pressed against the mattress. "I don't care if you're wounded, Heichou."

It was Heichou now, he noted, smirking slightly.

"Release me."

He arched a brow, spoke the word slowly, in challenge. "No."

That dead look crept over her again. "I won't hold back."

"Good." Levi lips curled up, not quite a smile. "Neither will I."

* * *

It was minutes later that they were both laying on the bed beside one another, breathless from their brief but vicious struggle, Mikasa facing the window mulishly, Levi facing her rigid back.

"Are you uncomfortable, Ackerman?"

She stiffened, her words venom. "Very, Heichou."

"Perhaps next time you'll be a bit more obedient."

He heard the strangled frustration in her feather soft whisper. "_Goodnight, Heichou._"

He shut his eyes, breathing deeply, too tired to stir up any lingering passion. He watched her ribs expand and compress, the sound of her breathing lulling him. She was a curious girl, he mused, one second capable of cold blooded murder and the next flustered from a touch and a kiss.

"Goodnight, Mikasa." His voice was a murmur, a whisper, his eyes shutting.

* * *

It wasn't that Eren deliberately sought trouble. He never went out of his way to cause it—and he hadn't meant to drag Armin or the others into it (especially not _Jean_) but it had happened anyway.

"Eren—I don't think we should be doing this." Sasha whispered anxiously, fumbling as she saddled her horse, her body quivering as hard as her voice.

"Tch," Eren pulled himself up, straddling his horse with ease. "You heard what Erwin told Hanji." Eren adjusted his crooked cloak. "They were supposed to be here late afternoon." Eren looked up at the night sky worriedly. "Something must have happened."

"I've read a few reports stating that a few of the military police have been attacked by thugs. Their gear goes for a lot of money on the underground market. Mikasa and Levi were still hurt, weren't they?" Armin mused, his brow furrowed. "If they spotted them and saw the way they moved, saw that they were weak and alone, they might have deduced that they'd be easy targets."

"Yeah, well, poor bastards if they did." Jean snorted, a hint of worry in his gaze nonetheless. "Mikasa is terrifying as it is. Levi is worse. But combined?" Jean shook his head as he mounted his horse. "I'd almost feel bad for the bastards."

"But they were _hurt._" Connie murmured, tugging up his hood. "And thugs don't fight fair."

"And Mikasa really was injured." Sasha twisted her hands together. "She couldn't even get into bed without Levi's help."

Eren felt his neck crack as he twisted to face Sasha. "What?"

Sasha blushed furiously, shaking her head, the silky brown stands of her ponytail slipping over her shoulder. "N-nothing. She just moved very slowly. I feel guilty because she was hurt trying to help get me—"

"Levi helped her into bed?" Jean interrupted, his back straight. "What do you mean he helped her _into_ bed?"

"I—…didn't mean anything." Sasha visibly flailed. "I didn't—"

"I think she means when Levi carried her to the medics." Connie murmured, earning a grateful look from Sasha

"Yes. I did—that's what I meant. Thank you, Connie."

He grinned at her. "Welcome, Sasha."

Eren frowned at Sasha, something unpleasant occurring to him but it was so ridiculous, so farfetched—he dismissed it. "Never mind. We need to get out of here as quick as we can."

"Jean—Eren, did you bring your civilian clothing with you?" Armin checked, his blue eyes calm and clear.

"Ah, yeah."

"Why are Eren and Jean the only ones going to dress as thugs?" Connie whined.

"Because they have the mean faces." Sasha answered with aplomb. "Everyone will believe they're criminals. You look like a nice guy, Connie."

The slightest tint of pink colored Connie's cheeks. "You look like a nice girl, too, Sasha."

She giggled a little nervously. "Thank you, Connie."

"Welcome, Sasha."

Jean grimaced. "Morons." He peered around the corner, glanced back towards the castle.

Christa poked her small head out, silently and excitedly gesturing for them to go.

"Alright." Eren pushed his horse forward, feeling oddly tight lipped, his insides twisted. Armin looked at him, a mixture of worry and determination within his eyes, an unspoken emotion passing between them. He felt as if he'd slipped back into his childhood, that strange urge of knowing she was in danger, of not knowing where she was, of needing to find her. He'd managed to save her, just by a breath, but what if this time he was too late?

What if they'd already sold her? What if...what if they'd killed her? Mikasa was strong and it would be in her to push them hard enough that they had no choice but to kill her. But he didn't want to think of those things. He couldn't. She couldn't be dead. She couldn't die, not Mikasa.

"We need to hurry." He furrowed his brow, shooting his horse forward, the beating of hooves drowning out any other thoughts.

* * *

"Where is she?" Levi snapped, tugging on his entered the kitchen. He'd woken rather late, his dreams filled with her scent and taste—only to find himself alone, his body stiff as bones, her side of the bed cool to the touch.

Sophia smiled as she sewed. "She just got back from the shop across the street—bought some knives, big ones. She gave one to me as a gift." Sophia nodded toward the large glinting knife on the small table. "The girl is a bit frightening. Explained how and where to cut the body very precisely. As if anyone is going to hurt a little old lady like me." Sophia chuckled a little. "She's getting the horses ready. She doesn't seem too comfortable around them." Sophia looked out the large window, narrowing her eyes. "If she isn't comfortable around them, you should be the one attending to them, don't you think?"

Levi observed Mikasa grimly. She threw the saddle onto it—the horse shifted, raising its back hoof—and she stepped away instantly. "No," Levi murmured, more to himself. "She's still a bit wary." The horse stepped towards her, trying to nuzzle her chest. She looked startled, holding still in surprise. Slowly, she raised her hands, threading her fingers through its mane. "She's still unsure. But she'll get there."

Sophia hummed suggestively. "I'm sure you'll help her along just fine." Sophia gave Levi a stern look. "Make sure not to hurt her."

Levi clenched his jaw. "When did you grow a heart?"

Sophia cackled, continuing her sewing a bit more energetically. "I just like ruffling your feathers, is all." She looked out the window towards Mikasa again. "That girl needs a mother."

Levi quieted.

She couldn't know what happened to Mikasa's mother, had no way of knowing. But she'd perhaps sensed that missing void in her life nonetheless.

"You should be careful on your way back." Sophia stood. "Those thugs don't like being bested. They could very well be hunting for you two now, intent on retaliation. There were two boys with ugly mugs asking around for you two this morning."

He frowned. "Boys?"

Sophia nodded, snapping a thread with her worn teeth. "Thugs. It didn't look like they got along much. They were trying to ask a few of the people in the shop across the street but mostly ended up arguing with one another. It seems like they're sniffing you two out." She was silent for several moments. "The boy with the large eyes looked very determined. I'm not sure if you roughed up some family of his but he looked very, very angry. Eerie eyes, really."

There was something that bothered him immensely about that description. "What did they look—" He paused, seeing Mikasa walk by the window, her expression numb and deadly, the one she'd worn as she'd mindlessly broke men twice her size. Something was wrong. His skin prickled, his palms tingling as his instincts made his body coil tightly. Yes, they'd found them. "Sophia…" He stepped towards her. "Go into your bedroom."

She grinned. "Finally giving into my charms, are you?"

He scowled, his eyes pulling away from the window to grab the knife on the table. "Sophia—"

They heard a shrill scream, and Levi barely manage to hurl them both onto the ground before a large brick was hurled through the window.

* * *

**A/N-It's 2 am and I may or may not have had a Vicodin or two. Getting wisdom teeth pulled isn't exactly a trip to Disneyland.**

**_Thank you._ I don't think you can grasp how much every one of your words means to my tiny black heart. And I'm so very, very sorry for taking a bloody century to update. I'm surprised my story hasn't fossilized. Feel free to verbally stone me. I won't defend myself. **

**I've received a few comments (here and on tumblr) about the romance perhaps feeling too rushed, and since I take everything to heart, I'm ripping back on the reins and throwing a few obstacles at them, like perhaps a romantic confession (though from Eren or Jean I can't quite decide & feel free to tell me your opinions on this one), a terrible mission, and delving into Levi's past...so, perhaps that'll help the feeling rushed bit?**

**Also, loves, this is going to get explicit. I've decided that when it does get to that point I'll put up the, ah, uncensored version on AO3. So, if you find that sort of thing distasteful you can just read it here and if explicit smut just so happens to be your cup of tea just skip on over there. I love you all enough that I'm sort of trying to make everyone happy. I hope I can. **

**The drugs are killing me. I'll go through everything with a fine-toothed comb in the morning. Forgive my mistakes. **


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